Στοίχοι: Unkle. Psyence Fiction. Guns Blazing (Drums Of Death Part 1).

Original Star Wars Trailer (before the movie's released in 1977) Sample :
Somewhere in space, this may all be happening right now

U.N.K.L.E. 77 are requesting information...

Styles like Al Pacino
Reno until the parcelino
The mad dino with the bambino, the gambino
Digger than Jim Colisemo
More reservoir dogs than Tarantino
Scales for Venezuela, Brown as Ni O
Making the block hotter than Jalepe OS
G. Luciano
Be wettin' shit like Pesci in "Casino"
Fifty dollar cigar seer
The Bosnia, the mafia
Don P. like Garcia
Drug Czar and the baby-Pah beater
The M-8 behind the bar-freer
The poughkenoughs, the panama skier
Down with the parmesan
Ready to comb like Vietnam with arms
'Cause the hollow-points and phenomenon
The cheddar-spreader
The killer with the gold Carretta
N-Leader
The sweater-letter with the hollow letter
Drama-setter
The patmeretta gettin' redder kids and mamma
Shredder
Infra-red clow off the armour better
The godfather, the problem solver
Coming through with the 6 shell revolver
Hot as lava
Guns skills that reel and in the 'ville I be the barber
Gangster saga, the motha-fuckin' face carver

Drums of death hold your breath
Give you a dose of shit that's dope as soda
The underworld family cosa-nostra
Pearl-handle inside the shoulder-holster
G. Luciano with a click but nothin' but N-S & Chicanos
You get hit up like Castrelano
italiano like crime familia
N- don't get familiar
Me and my goons might have to kill you
Up in New York
We play bloodsports at home court
And hold down forts
Soon as ya caught, get your dome torched
G Rap and Dj Shadow leave your bone squashed
Squeeze the chrome short, take no shorts
We judge and jury in the home court
Give you the clown corpse dead on the sidewalk
Surrounded by mad pedefors
Your whole frame laid in the white chalk
You got the smoking section
First-class tickets to resurrection
Forever destined to a place where N-S never rest in
Headed in hell's direction
Lost at the crossroads and intersection
Should've wore a vest for chest protection
Slug fill you to capacity, someone at the dance
Someone with the hand velocity of Butch Cassidy
Bitch N- with the audacity to blaspheme me
Got yourself caught in a motha-fuckin' tragedy

Drums of death