orange smoke fills the air, like mist
goons and traitors occupy all tables
a small bar, downtown, silent quarter
whole ones and racks, bagged, airtight
the zippers of the bottega shine golden
24 k, 24/7, creatures of the night who
are made of struggle, gore and greed
deception and loyalty: the brotherhood
hour of the thieves, year of white marble
350 million a year, a neeeedy enterprise
sick profit, blank sheets floating loosely
shark collar and tattoos, loaded *******
sounds of the past in an air breeze, secretly
old butch is swallowing a paper message
leave no traces, mind dem ears and eyes
wild roses and escalades, the night glows
