Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Not Stick You Part 2, artist - Capone-N-Noreaga.
Date of issue: 23.07.2015
Song language: English
Not Stick You Part 2 |
Who the fuck is that? |
Ayo, pass my phone |
Those bitches calling you now? |
It ain’t no bitch. |
No bitches even got my number |
See I was wakin' up |
Out of my sleep, holdin' my heat |
Got a call from Khadafi sayin' «Call me back Papi» |
I rushed to the bathroom to bust me a leak |
Charged my phone for a second ‘cause I knew it was deep |
I know Trag, and Trag ain’t afraid of no beef |
But he fuck with bottom-feeders and them niggas is creeps (True) |
Called him back, he ain’t answer, I got a little worried |
Text messaged him quick, said «Call me back, hurry!» |
I rolled a blunt and I tried to relax |
This nigga put me on, gotta show him love, that’s facts |
Phone rang, and I picked up, like «What up slime?» |
Peace god, I’m in Miami, don’t take it in vain |
On Biscayne with three Italian bitches goin' insane |
I said god, no disrespect, while I’m smokin' this joint |
But it’s late night, nigga gotta get to the point |
Won’t make a long story longer, so I’ll cut to the chase |
Fuckin' with the boss wife, the bitch showed me the safe |
It ain’t a shock, I got some Haitian niggas out in Opa-Locka |
And some goons up in Overtown, they’ll do it proper |
But the thing is, they don’t wanna what they work for |
They just wanna kill shit |
Niggas never out of line, they just wanna kill shit |
Real talk, real spit gorilla shit in my vibe |
I g’ed her for the combination and I saw bout nine |
I ain’t talkin', this is actual facts |
Matter of fact, I’ma boomerang ‘Pone on this Jack |
Aura |
Ayo slime, what up man? |
I’m boomeranging you, man, ‘cause I got off the phone |
with the Deuce and all that. |
(Aight, what he saying?) You know slime on this |
good guy shit. |
I got three bitches, I got three bangin' Italian bitches, nigga. |
Look, we can bring this shit back, forward and all that, the aura’s gracious |
One bitch is from Star Island, my nigga. |
The other bitch? |
She from |
motherfuckin' Coconut Grove. |
And the bitch I’m fuckin' wit', feel me, |
she from motherfuckin' Golden Beach, son |
This shit is poppin', my nigga (Whassup?!) |
Word is born, I need you |
Aight |
Got some niggas in the Grove |
Gun stay hot as the stove |
My Little Haiti niggas out of control |
All they need is a whereabout to air it out |
Escape to the stash house in West Palm |
Chill Mahdi, you know we do this best calm |
Word to my left arm |
You my right hand |
We in it for life, fam |
Just give me the address |
My niggas right there in a white van |
I spoke to Cadeuce |
He was like, damn, slime caught up in a light jam |
I be there in a minute |
My mind zonin', thinkin' 'bout all of them stacks |
Made a call to my had to give ‘em my facts |
«Rich boss and my nigga fuckin' his wife |
He know where the safe at |
But yo, we gotta thug ‘em tonight |
Here’s the game plan, she gonna let him know when his plane land |
And text slime the code to the gate and the door |
You could hide in the closet ‘cause the safe in the floor» |
Fast forward ‘bout nine PM |
He pulled up in a lime BM |
Puffin' a Cuban cigar |
Made his way to the boro and the door’s ajar |
My nigga hopped out, threw the heat to his face |
Said |
«Me nah wan' hurt you, bwoy |
Where the key to the safe?» |
He gave it up quick |
Lookin' at these niggas with dreads |
Knowin' one false move they probably fill him with lead |
Took the bread, hopped back in the whip |
In about 45 minutes met the whole team back on the strip |
Split the loot up — 85 racks apiece |
We got it in, my niggas |
Now let’s feast |