[Jim Jones]
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Uhh, okay, y'all know what this is
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Jim Capo nigga, we back on this motherfucker
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Drama King, drama game, bird caine
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DipSet, Diplomat - y'all know what it is
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Exclusive nigga, for the streets
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Harlem, stand up, Eastside representers
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You know what it is, check it
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Passed my hood throwin weed out the window
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Half my hood they be out the window
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Tell KaySlay throw the key out the window
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I parked in front so I can see out the window
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Get inside of the ride, 20 inches piped in the side
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So I cypher some eyes, hell yeah like bikers we ride
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Better yet like pilots we fly
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Trust me you be flyin all high
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like a bunch of birds and we dump the birds
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And we bump the birds but "mums" the word
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Word, word - man bird gang
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I thought you heard mayne
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But hold on holmes, I be rollin stones
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Rocked up like a rollin stone
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Blocked up and I hold the chrome
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Pop up I will blow up homes, DipSet, he know it's on
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Yeah, it ain't even fair
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I'll squeeze a flare, I'll leave him there
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Just bleedin there, no breathin air
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Just leave him there 'til police get there
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Whoo! That's my kind of work
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Fucked up buletproof liner shirt
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Then we grind the work, all kind of work
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We watch po-po, they tryin alerts
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Fuck that dough, they dyin of thirst
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Huh, so we cop it and fry it
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Chop and divide it, toppers supply it
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Yeah - hit the block and he try it
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Yeah - watch the cops when they eye us
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Yeah - you know our block starts riots
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[Chorus 2X: Jim Jones, Juelz Santana]
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If it's drama we can start it
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Start the drama, get retarded
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Grab the llama, load the cartridge
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Turn yo' ass into a target
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If it's drama we gon' start it
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If it's problems we gon' solve it
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Big revolvers, you the target
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Load the hammers, load the cartridge
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[Juelz Santana]
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I pop hoes and greet ya, nachoes and cheese ya
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Send vatos, choppos and gablones to meet ya
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They pop yo' top slow, pa blow and leave ya
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I got dough, papo or chop low flaminga
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I got hoes, papo that lock load the finger
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So all the broads now all across town
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All aboard now, let's all get all down
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Yeah, on the floor now, lower your drawer down
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Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah - I know you thir-STY!
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I'm a gorilla case, Harlem's my villa place
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Nigga what, nigga wait - get it what, get it straight
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Nigga, get it fucked, get the eight
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Get it up, in your face
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Yeah, nigga what, nigga HEY!
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That's how my peeps roll, that's how the streets go
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That's street code, G roll, we KNOW!
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Man, the boy gets busy, that's for sure fo' sheezy
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The boy the busiest, all the rizzy of RAP!
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[Chorus]
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[Twista]
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I gotta cock and load, finna pop these hoes
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Kill a motherfucker let the glocks explode
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Come up on a corner servin rocks and blows
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Get the millimeter gotta rock and roll
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Gotta hit him with the heaters in the heart
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and I hurt him with the hollows every time I heard he come around here
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If you don't want the drama get up off the tip
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I'll be the only motherfucker servin dubs and the pounds here
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It ain't shit for me to throw them thangs
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If a nigga try to go inside, I come breakin him off
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Catch you slippin with the shiny rings
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And ain't no need for you to get dramatic on takin 'em off
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Catch him open when I'm kickin in the do'
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Shoot up on the ceiling then I get him on the flo'
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Take yo' cash, take yo' dro
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Mac-11 rugers and a forty-fo'
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Get your killers, you better go get your gangstas
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Better go get your hustlers, better go get your riders
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Better go get your - motherfuckers that'll handle that biz
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Kill a nigga even if they gotta do a bid
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Dress up like chicken when I pull you with a wig
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Take away your mothers and they kidnapped kids
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Shoot at us then it's tit for tat
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We the niggaz that be known to hit a lick for scratch
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Makin money puttin workers on the tit with packs
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Don't want no drama with the honorary Diplomat
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I got a - Desert Eagle and a pocket full of shells
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Opposition hangin on a tip, make confetti galore
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Thinkin I'ma let they pockets swell
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It's murder when I'm fillin up the clip and I'm ready for war
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Goin through bodies and drillin the wall
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| Dead 'em so quick then you be fe |
