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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Capone-N-Noreaga
Vocals
Tragedy Khadafi
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
K. Holley
Songwriter
P.L. Chapman
Songwriter
Victor Santiago
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Tragedy Khadafi
Executive Producer
Naugty Shorts
Producer
Martin Moor
Executive Producer
Neil Levine
Executive Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
From 41-12 to the U.S.A. building in Iraq
My crew bust back, we're cap peelin'
You're through dealin', in a box with no feeling
Informer type, that's what you get for squealin'
It's the money or the morgue, son, ready to die
Black Infiniti, yo, Papi, call Ki
The coke connect don't trust us, he wanna touch us
So call Russ, tell him, "Scoop me in the Lexus"
It's all good in the hood, nobody know sh'
Infrared, off the roof, some old scope sh'
C-N-N, desert men, holdin' the chrome with guerrilla grip
Sing Sing, straight convict
Strap the door, C-4, detonatin' sh'
Blow the spot, don't give a fuck who you go and get
We want the yayo, and the cash that's in the stash
Strip his Tommy drawers, yo, check the crack of his ass
(Yo, on some homo sh'?) Nah, kid, we on some real shit
Since we here, we might as well get all of it
Inshallah, Allahu akbar supporter
C-N-N, desert men, supreme order (Word)
[Verse 2]
Akasi, three-and-a-quarter, Arab Nazi
Me and shorty from the Mecca, havin' a session
Play the Shark Bar, sippin' on French Connection
On the rocks, son, hit me on the box
Time to hit the spot, regulate the whole fuckin' block
[Verse 3]
Grab the gray tape, gag his mouth, leave him for the rats
Stuck him for the yayo, couldn't get the money bag
So where you at?
Meet me uptown by the Polo Grounds
Strap with the vest, plus, I got the four-pound
Tell Ca-deuce, bring the AK, so y'all can hold me down
[Verse 4]
A'ight, Kiko, I'ma meet you in a hour, keep the free power close
Gotta get done and we ghost
Met Papi in Iraq, (Huh?) the wing brought her back
Opened up the trunk and threw in the big gat
Took off, threw the skelly mask over the dome
We war-prone, desert men tactics all shown
Met on 1-5-2, now we figure
Lookin' for that rich Dominican with that gold Ac' vigor
Chico, he got perico, little do he know
We stickin' him for all of his dough, ****
[Verse 5]
This ain't your ordinary sh', thug sh', that you used to
Kill you (We stick you, we supposed to)
Not your ordinary sh', thug sh', that you used to
Kill you (We stick you, yo)
[Verse 6]
Yo, yo (Yo), for years, I been buyin' my coke from the same cat
Jheri curl ****, Dominican **** who look black
As I think back, transform coke to crack
Yo, amigo, him and Rico, they got perico
Son, I know the spot like the back of my hand
Networked the plan, we stickin' him and his man
Workin' Zip-Loc, pop the lock, flee the spot
Grab the knot, national (Hurry up, hurry up)
Tell Willy, come and get me on 160
I got three people with me with trenches
We uptown waitin' on the benches
The cab takin' long, Dominicans comin' strong
Claimin' that it's on from dusk to dawn
We right across the street, they don't see us
Ayo, our Cuban disguise, it got us lookin' like we Jesus
Inshallah, we flee the spot, mega far
Jump up in Willy's car and scream, "Al-hamdu Allah"
Twenty-five people lost sleep, the other twenty-five lost heat
And gave up Luis, and said it wasn't worth it
The C-N-N drug circuit
Yo, blindfold, pass the grey tape, regulate
Cowboy rope strapped to the chair, stay there
He just a Power Ranger that snitched on me while in danger
Noreaga treat that ass like a stranger
Yo, yo, yo
[Verse 7]
This ain't your ordinary sh', thug sh', that you used to
Kill you (We stick you, we supposed to)
Not your ordinary sh', thug sh', that you used to
Kill you (We stick you, stick you)
[Verse 8]
And him too, yeah, you and you
Bitch ass ****
Got you back, got you back
We got you back from sellin' that fake ya'
Written by: Joe Davis, K. Holley, P.L. Chapman, Victor Santiago