Thuun (feat. Capone & Noreaga) - Funk Flex & King Von

I heard that nigga Capone's home Yo, word to motha that nigga Nore' Doin' his mothafuckin' thing thugged out Entertainment, know what I'm sayin'? Niggas still in the streets, I'll will Braveheart nigga, there's a thin line Between streets and business So we gotta have balance and be easy I heard you fags wanna catch me off guard Put Tecks to my heart, the death of Escobar Under your breath, whispers in the dark I hear it 'cause the street ain't loyal to choose sides Prepare for the beef, whoever lose dies rich and I'm thuggin' I can't trust nothin', this bitch that I'm fuckin' This clip that I'm bustin' could jam in my fist Look at my hand, finger pussy with expensive rings Cut coke cookies, wrote poetry and broke noses B The voice from heaven, I'm God sent, of course a legend This is part 1, speak my sermon, the hood reverand Blunted eyes red, C-Class, a hundred times five red CD's blast, speed fast, haters drop dead I'm gorgeous black Goddess flip the arm rest, flip the cordless Her body stacks the best, ass is flawless Finally the long awaited shit, ghetto people, the sequel Nas, CNN, nobody's equal Yo, b ez, keep the club off the heezy Straight thugs in the back, drink creezy B ez but we still smoke treezy See us rippin' the shows with thugged eezy Niggas picked me the boss, Ricky Ross Lex two-fifty horse power, click and devour the source If it's flour then swallow your loss I cock fours, kick in Poppi's doors All for the cash and the cause Niggas break big fractions of laws So what, we got it sewn up Smack every cat on the board I speak the truth, guns spit at you Shakin' my palm, it's pitiful, wavin' my wand The Don, a hundred follow me like Farrakhan Chasin' my Henny, embrace Benny's It's quite Frank, my niggas I'll kill Never waste a penny, money stay well invested Feel the weight on my necklace When death is too close flip the next shit Thug the game out bust biscuits, pull the range out Public enemy, Queens Bridge where I hang out Sweet scent of weed, I wear like a fragrance My energy's kinetic, mind power type ancient Yo, b ez, keep the club off the heezy Straight thugs in the back, drink creezy B ez but we still smoke treezy See us rippin' the shows with thugged eezy I see death through the corner, die, kingdom come Six 500's, pull up right in front of the slum Sticky green fingers soldiers of the great God Clarence spoke to the poor but he lived in Oz An ill hook like Roy Jones, I'm a street corner bastard And crush weed with the hashish Bandana head dome wrapped Caddy trucks with the grills and the chrome snaps I'm on point like Al Sharpton, come peep the M.U. marksman The S-Class is shittin' on your weak Datsun Graffiti written on the Bible, my life is wicked I see dead corpses and Rolls Royces Put your heart on your lap, listen you hear voices My whole persona is the drama and to smoke skama I can lift it up, Willy what in front of your slut Money bustin' out my pocket, your bank is stopped Yo, b ez, keep the club off the heezy Straight thugs in the back, drink creezy B ez but we still smoke treezy See us rippin' the shows with thugged eezy

(Feat. Tragedy Khadafi) (Intro - conversation with Capone in the background) (Noreaga) Yo, yo - you got that shit? Let me see that. (It's right here, yo) Look - look, son! That's the second time that nigga did that, yo! Second time! Taste that, yo! (What the fuck is this shit, yo?) Is this your shit, no? Is it? (No, this shit is weak) Yo, that's the second time son did that shit, yo (Word, I don't wanna talk...) Yo, fuck that yo (word up) We're gonna go get him right now, yo, us, us, right here, yo Us, yo, nobody else, we gonna get him, yo (Listen, listen, listen son) (Tragedy) Listen, listen - Yo, we gotta map this shit out, son We can't just be runnin' them things... (Noreaga) Meet us on 160 - the nigga be on 1-5-2, And we just gonna do it on 160, we gonna get... (Tragedy) Look, I'm sayin' dun, we gonna keep it real, man (He ain't gonna do it to us again son! We gonna do it son!) Look, I'm sayin' - you know I'm with you - you know how we get down We gonna get the nigga but we gotta map this shit out right Cause people, I... That nigga got mad, fuckin, You know what I'm sayin' Boricua niggas runnin' with him (word?) You know what I'm sayin'? (Noreaga) They ain't gonna expect it, We gonna move it's raining son, They ain't gonna expect it right now, They ain't gonna expect it, son (Tragedy) I ain't trying to have no 2-5 casualties, man, That's what I'm sayin', I want us to get in, And get the fuck out... (Tragedy Khadafi) From fourty one - twelve, to the U.S.A. buiding in Iraq My crew bust back, we're cap peeling Your crew dealing, in a box with no feeling Informer type, that's what you get for squealing 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 shhh Infrared, off the roof, some ol' scope shhh CNN, desert men, holding the chrome with gorilla grip Sing Sing, straight convict Strap the door, C-4, detonating shhh Blow the spot, don't give a fuck who you go and get We want the yay-yo And the cash that's in the stash, strip his Tommy drawers Yo, check the crack of his ass (Noreaga) You on some homo shhh? Nah kid, we on some real shit Since we here, we might as well get all of it Inshallah allahu akbar supporter CNN, desert men supreme order(word) (Capone) A kassi(?), three and a quarter, Arab Nazi Me and shorty from the Mecca, having a session Play the Shark Bar, sipping on French connection On the rocks, son, hit me on the box Time to hit the spot, regulate the whole fucking block (Tragedy Khadafi) Grab the gray tape, gag his mouth, leave him for the rats Stuck him for the yay-yo couldn't get the money back (Capone) So where you at? (Tragedy Khadafi) Meet me uptown, by the polo ground Strapped with the vest, plus I got the 4-pound Tell Caduece(tell who?), bring the A.K.(wha?), So y'all can hold me down (Capone) Aight kiko, I'ma meet you in a hour, keep the free power close Gotta get dun, and we ghost Met papi in Iraq(huh?), then winged by the back Opened up the trunk, and threw in the big gat Took off, threw the skully mask over the dome We war prone, desert men tactics all shown Met on 1-5-2, now we figure, Looking for that rich Dominican with that gold act vigor Chico, he got porico(?), little do he know We sticking him for all of his dough(nigga) Chorus: (Tragedy) This ain't your oridinary sh thug sh, that you used to, Q.U. (Noreaga) We stick you, we supposed to (Tragedy) Not your ordinary sh thug sh that you used to, Q.U. (Noreaga) We stick you (Noreaga) Yo, for years I been buying my coke from the same cat Gherri curl nigga, Dominican nigga who look Black As I think back, transform coke to crack Yo amigo, him and Rico, they got Borico(?) Son I know the spot, like the back of my hand Networked the plan, we sticking him and his man Working zip-lock, 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 waiting on the benches The cab taking long, Dominicans coming strong Claiming that it's on, from dusk 'til dawn We right across the street, they don't see us Ay yo, our Cuban disguise, it got us looking like we Jesus Inshallah, we flee the spot mega far Jump up in Willy's car, and scream "Alhumdu Allah!" 25 people lost sleep, the other 25 lost heat(snitching) A gave up Luis, and said it wasn't worth it The CNN drug circuit, (yo) blind fold Pass the gray 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 - Chorus Stick you, and him too - you and you (Bitch ass nigga) Got you back, got you back We got you back - from sellin' that fake yak

Son, I zone, my gun is never on safety I copped the new Jordan's, the white ones wit' skate key (Me, I'm just chillin' Pop, serving my time) (Got my greens on, these faggots ain't deservin' a shine) And yeah, while I'm home you like livin' abroad I heard those crackers dissed you, smack you at the board (When twenty-four, they did the same to Norman and Lord) (Heard you cop the silver GS, my nigga you scored) Yea, it's nuthin' 'cuz I'm gettin' bread Crack is dead, bitches wanna give me head (You's a funny nigga, I just saw Kai in the yard) (He said holla, when you getta chance, scribe the God) Tell Kai I said what up, and his sister is grown I copped the four-fifth auto, it's pretty with chrome (The day I come home, I need a mink and a brand new Mac) (A few jump offs, some Dom's, some beer, and the crack) I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down (I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and readin' books) I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's wit' hooks (I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks) I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new kicks (I hit the law library, hope to come home soon) I just finished up the album, fin' ta drop in June (Yeah, yeah, yeah) (My little dun gangstas, caught in blood beef with the Kings) (You know Jarome brotha, my dun I used to creep wit' in Queens) And dat's my dun too, so I'ma find out now And have my dogs on the Island, just get on the prawl (On the other side of things, I'm tryin' to get released) (Around my born day, but a nigga keep in beef wit' da beast) Fuck the police 'cuz all of dem niggas is fake Don't lose your C.R., son, you'll get your open date (Dun, I'ma see ya regardless 'cuz I got two violent felony charges) And you know your appeal is progress (You're my dog, dun) And we gon' keep this tight I keep your commisary phat, I'ma keep you right (I got the chronic stashed in a coffee carton and kicks) (Good lookin' for the bitches butt-naked and the flicks) And you ain't gotta thank me, real niggas do real things I keep freak hoes, they really do ill things I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down (I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and readin' books) I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's wit' hooks (I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks) I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin new kicks (I hit the law library, hope to come home soon) I just finished up the album, fin' ta drop in June (Yeah, yeah, yeah) I used to be ugly, now these bitches is Medusa And guess what? I made you executive producer Some extra G's, so when you come home you breathe (They won't believe to see me come home to a V) (Pigs pressin' me, want autographs for they seeds) (I gotta C.O. thinkin' that we gon' fuck when I leave) Yo, nigga think about this money, fuck them hoes We gonna throw a pounda weed out, at one the shows Spread it out, in the crowd, see them niggas get wild Capone home, niggas still diggin our style (Shit is foul, how these crackers tryin' to keep me confined?) (I gotta visit last week and saw Gremlin Divine) Meet Timbo and Ice, got bent and rolled dice Scooped, ridin' loose, then we headed to Post And got some hydro-weed and we had our toast (Son, there's only one minute left) (Son, there's only one minute left, son, I'm ghost) I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down (I'm in jail pumpin iron, son, and readin' books) I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's wit' hooks (I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks) I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new kicks (I hit the law library, hope to come home soon) I just finished up the album, fin' ta drop in June (Yeah, yeah, yeah) I'm outside on the streets, just holdin' it down (I'm in jail pumpin' iron, son, and readin' books) I'm in the studio, droppin' sixteen's wit' hooks (I'm in the yard in the cypha, just smokin' my sticks) I'm in Queens Coliseum, just coppin' new kicks (I hit the law library, hope to come home soon) I just finished up the album, fin' ta drop in June (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Killer B, yeah, rest in peace, I'm sayin' son Ain't no room in this game for everybody, you know? But uh, we gon' do our thing baby, we gon' do our thing Yo, I man T.H.U.G. something stunnin', rappers get done in I migrate, Queens Jamaica, Brooklyn gets sunning All feelings though, we all grow wit' this buckle I recognized life is a deal, cards and a shuffle Everything revolves around me, I couldn't see that 25 to Life and hip-hop, you got the feedback Who need that, hundred gram stashed up in the cheese stack We fo' black, want more trip, we get that old back And keep this world high, yearly raw supply These fuckin' tracks have a nigga feelin' wide inside Any bottle tip high smokin' lah in the rye It's on you, if you wanna take heed the hidden treasure Recognize it's I man T.H.U.G. wit' Noreaga Recognize that 2-5 shine will last forever Embedded in your mind like the seams in butter leathers Butter leathers, check it yo, yo, yo I keep it real wit' a nigga keep it real wit' me I cut the hand off a nigga tryin' steal from me 2-5 be that bomb diggy bomb you see Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat I keep it real wit' a nigga keep it real wit' me I cut the hand off a nigga tryin' steal from me 2-5 be that bomb diggy bomb you see Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat I keep it real wit' a bitch that keep it real wit' me Cut the hand off a chicken tryin' steal from me CNN be that bomb diggy bomb you see Now it's Nore now in the fuckin' driver's seat Yo I shot rapid, burn weed inside a back quick Iraq embassy need a straitjacket Yo let's rachateer this, while most niggas will fear this Turn my shit down every time they hear it P H D me, rapidly right in back of me Tackle me, them niggas make loot but only half of me My faculty, blow holes in your Mos chinos and tuxedos While all y'all niggas free load, reload Explode on, roll on, fold on, Ghengis Khan Dusk till dawn Art of War Still time to score, yo we kid we poly for Yo Victoria's Secret bitches that suck dick raw The freak, Rick James type, I got the long pipe Kick doors in, snake four fours in Yo escape the Nor-van, swervin', TV's inside Suburban Iraq dishieke, diamond cut pinky Listen to Trag shit wit' Noyd and Chinky Network like the Internet, wit' Henny wet Nine, oh be my set, so whatever be next Nashiem, he laced this beat on some east coast shit I keep it real wit' a bitch that keep it real wit' me Cut the hand off a chicken tryin' steal from me CNN be that bomb diggy bomb you see Now it's Nore now in the fuckin' driver's seat We overdose this, high class wit' one E-Class Shorty came through, she iced out and dressed in blue Said she move from Brooklyn, reside in section two Know how we do out here hoe, a two for square Get high and disappear play the projects on super low Plus she feelin' my style, Too Hot like Coolio Plus her cooty though, bangin' just like the studio From Iraq to Inglewood, it all good From hood to hood, regulate like a thug should Yo we in too deep, losin' sleep and can't call it The game is still fresh until the jake try to spoil it Even people I was loyal wit', give my life to Be the first who turn around and try to spike Now they don't like you, sendin' ten dogs to bite you I keep it real wit' a nigga, keep it real wit' me (Yo, yo, we keep it real nigga) I cut the hand off a nigga tryin' steal from me (Cut ya hand off, fuck) 2-5 be that bomb diggy bomb you see Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat (What, what) (We keeps it real wit' niggas who keep it real wit' us) I keep it real wit a nigga keep it real wit me (Fuck, cut ya hand off) I cut the hand off a nigga tryin' steal from me 2-5 be that bomb diggy bomb you see (What) Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat (What)