Lyrics Not Stick You Part 2 - Capone-N-Noreaga, Tragedy

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