The Story Goes On La Coka Nostra

[Verse 1: ILL Bill]
His father died young, never knew him to shield him from the rain
Starting shooting heroin at fourteen to numb the pain
Track marks similar to tattoos, tell the story of a sad fool
Tragic monologue of a man who
Became a victim of half-truths and whispered secrets
His own inner-demons, syringes and lesions
Crack pipes and binges on weekends
Led to benders and blackouts that last for seasons
For no apparent reasons he never had children
He was a child in a man’s body
Found joy in the thrill of the streets and crack parties
Robbing drug dealers, selling dope, selling soap
Locked in the belly of the beast where the felons roam
Gift of gab, quick-witted with the clever soul
Couldn’t keep him from catching a buck-fifty in his dome
Matter of fact, more like two-fifty, too shifty
His name was Howie but on Rikers Island he was gypsy

[Hook]
Time and time again, as I pick up the pen
As my thoughts emerge, these are those words
I glance at the paper to know what's going on
Someone's doing wrong, the story goes on

A lot of stuff happens that the news won't tell you's
Blues on L juice, snooze, all hell loose