The overcoat,
ciggie from my mouth,
and then the arrival,
of all of your goons.

The bodies dumped,
the old and the youth.
Their skills of survival,
lead them to their doom.

I was packing a 44
from a tour of war
I'm hired as a mercenary
and took out your army.

Now, I don't ****
women or children.
but a decent bill
can turn me double agent.

I work for money bills,
against your horse's will
I don't miss in a crossfire
and I will jump barb-wire.

Hire me more of the dough,
to go up against your foes,
You are all gangsters in my dead eyes,
Fly me the green and your enemies will fly.