ILL BILL, Q-Unique - This Thing of Ours lyrics

Tony: Okay, you want me to come
In, we start over again, man?

Hector: Where are you from, Tony?

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

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