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

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