Okay, you want me to come in, we start over again, man? Where are you from, Tony? What the fuck difference does it make where I'm from, man? I got white pills and white powder It's white Bill, sell it right over the counter Get your hydro with a Quarter Pounder I know all about it homie, Uncle Howie told me I'm on top of New York, call my homie Q-Tony Call me Bill Bixby, real shifty You fail in your attempts to hit me like the kid that tried to kill fifty They say that hard times inspires great music I haven't died by now you bet your life I ain't losing I'm a true hustler general, executive rank The type of person that would stab you in the neck with a shank The type of person that would beat you to death with a bat And to make sure you dead, shoot you in your head with a gat The world's a ghetto, but holding never crossed me Cause I don't care if you a rap fan, you gonna listen to metal Poke you with the pistol, pussy, have you pissing a puddle Twisted and troubled, smoke you in an instant, you crumble This Thing of Ours Who do you know? How do you say? How do you do? Lay you the fuck down, out of your crew The noble blood, the honorable few My familia to the end, throw my nine up at you I got weapons to weaken your pride and sanity Howie's nephew, the Puerto Rican side of the family Q-Capital, I'm attacking you with the mic cord Fuck the rap battles, bitch, we gonna fight for it I spit up for the fans and don't rap for rappers Rather pull up a magnum and cap all you rap bastards The number one Wiseguy with a gun to make your eyes cry Told honey to lay on her stomach and raise her thighs high Get a percentage of the corner action The wrong reaction could get you killed and leave a former captain Many cheat, so many rob, many kill I seen snitches sell the family out like they was Henry Hill I strike this lame game until the game's hurt I might make a name change and kill you as James Burke It's Tony, Anthony coming with the big boy's plans And when it's time to cross over I'm gonna floss with my fans This Thing of Ours Who do you know? How do you say? How do you do? Lay you the fuck down, out of your crew The noble blood, the honorable few My familia to the end, throw my nine up at you It's a matter of trust, honor and respect Men of few words We got goons with burners that do the talking that you heard Snitches and bullshitters, bitches and bean-shooters and backstabbers I seen Judas talking to Huda 187 on the Huda cop How do we really know you a cop, Mel? Pop pop, send you to cop hell Top of the world, popping the trunk for bodies to burn We all popping bottles till Gotti returns I've called for a brawl for the young feeble man to see me Revenge in the hands of young Vito Angelini Bullseye where your mans stand is the fams plans Since I got the after school job at the cab stand Snatch the fame, they won't even know what's missing Organized crime against labor prohibition The beat spins, I'm like Gina with deep swings But I get nowhere unless the team wins This Thing of Ours Who do you know? How do you say? How do you do? Lay you the fuck down, out of your crew The noble blood, the honorable few My familia to the end, throw my nine up at you