Mobs of the past From Chicago, New York, to eastern docks A tradition of killing, is what talks With shots fired, with the spin of a clock Curiosity yet panic, the people flock Fear and cash pile, from block to block Opportunity and pleasure always knocks A rain of bullets lights the skies Blood and tears, screams and cries Body after body, bloodline runs dry All your hopes, dreams, come here to die Innocence and formality, say goodbye A normal life, of the wise guy Suits and diamonds, spoils of luxury and war Gambling and drugs, waiting for the next score Money, corruption, keeps cops from their door Having cash flowing and enemies on the floor Family and brotherhood, an oath to swore With loyalty and honor, at their core Prohibition here to stay Schemes and plots, is their way Greed and power, welcome to play Choices, decisions, too heavy to weigh Just a nod, nothing else to say A chain of commands, on display. Once poor and homeless, had nothing to eat Now a pawn of the system, set in concrete Escaping, hiding, behind a guarded retreat An army of killers, there is no defeat A battle of turfs, ready to compete Chaos and mayhem flood this street God won’t save him, just an outcast He received everything he ever asked Emotions cloud reason, life hits fast A reality of loneliness , the future’s cast Either prison or a casket, nothing lasts For these men of the mob’s past