Drama

Aiyyo, where the fuck is that blunt at?

Where y'all niggaz hoggin the shit man?

Two pulls of that shit nigga start gettin paranoid and shh

Get your fuckin, get your feet off my fuckin table nigga!

Fuck you think you at home, with your cheap fur on?

Shit look like it 'bout to bite somethin and shit nigga

Yo, yo, it was the night before he got popped

Big jars of haze, Cheech & Chong bong in the spot

Tropicana, strawberries, diced bananas

The long dookie fifth, next to the Town House crackers

Mad noise, 2008, a G a game

I'm ridin on in the love seat, sunk deep

Long niggaz bustin out they punk heat

I make a massacre, try to rob one of my donkeys

But I ain't wettin that

I don't wanna send nobody back, violently, fakin that

Promise you, got somethin Lord that'll honor you

Blow your little head off while you're tyin your shoe

But back in the kitchen, Pyrex's

Occupied by the twins, bank robbers with large records

Hard vest-es, '86 ga-ga John{?}

Benatar rockin some frames and fake guns when they rob Sha Born

'til then they snatch you, axe you

Play the squid-ad, we gettin at you

And we don't wanna rap to you, it's not kosher

It's not a code in la costa nostra to roast ya

I get a lil' closer

Rock you to sleep, like I got these lil' bitches, come over!

Hopin you fall for the bait, thinkin you safe

Have that ass sweatin like T.D. Jakes

I want the ones nigga, you non-believers you can ask your momma

Now that's drama

Uhh, dollar icey from, papi with the scraper, glock with the laser

Tryin my best not to pop yet but the drop is major

Shot my lil' cuz, I do my art to favor, watch this

I never been this itchy, hope these cops just

get a doughnut urge and just splurge, you got the nerve to play third?

In a softball tournament round my waist, yeah that's ya word

You bird, I'll put your beak on the curb but anyway

Looks like a good game, the pigs ain't leavin so I'ma lay

Nice play, just too bad it's your last

Couple bundles of D, and 200 cash that sat you in the grass

I watch the teams line up, shake hands, guess the game's over

Faggot nigga hopped in the Liberty, fake Range Rover

I'm on his (Tail) like, Sonic lil' shorty

Palmin on a 40, broad day I'm tryin to dodge a cover story

Look like he stoppin for gas, I'ma pluck 'em, yay

This had to be his most, unlucky lucky day

Two brothers come out 7/11 in Army wear and stand there

I'm actin like my tires need air

He close the gas cap, too many things goin his way

So I just cash that, y'all probably think I'm buggin but hey

I know them games in Lindsay Park is every Sunday, he ain't goin nowhere

I went home, switch gear, went out and grabbed me a beer

Ten drinks later I'm at Burger King window for a Whopper

Look left and see partner, I hit the stash BLAKA!

Now that's drama

Who the fuck you think you is, Ron O'Neal?

Tat-tat, what the fuck when that 9-milli peel

(Is it real?) Realer than Pittsburg (Steel)

Yo Ghost pass the toast, these niggaz is daffodils

Got butt-naked bitches countin half a mil', gloves on

Fully dressed bitches watchin them, with they snubs on

While I'm in the kitchen pretendin to be Raekwon

Watchin Rachael Ray all day, I get my cake on

Fiends love me like a Drake song

Rep that Lou' Vuitton Bottom in my back pocket all day long

Black Wall Mafia, Wu-Tang Sopranos

Niggaz say they pushin ki's/keys but we don't see pianos

Niggaz say they pushin Phantoms, we don't see the opera

Niggaz steady rockin dreads, you ain't even rasta

Take your New Era off, and reveal

the faggot nigga you are or your cap gettin peeled

Then we out to Brazil, I know niggaz in Negril

that'll chop your fuckin head off, and throw it on the grill

Take the gold out your mouth and throw it in they grill

Send a finger to your moms and let her know that it's real

Nigga we in the field like Chris Johnson

It's 2010, how the fuck we get six Thompsons?

Top 10, how the fuck you gon' forget Compton?

Every rapper on your list'll get they shit stomped in

I started Su-Wu, I'm the reason for that 5 shit

Came in the game, on that fuckin "Ready to Die" shit

Sold 9 mil', ended up on some fly shit

Naked pictures, R&B bitches all in my Sidekick

How I be killin the pussy, should be a hate crime

Got a Blackberry, was gettin too much face time

Back to fuckin project bitches, now I hate dimes

All they want is money my nigga, I can't waste mine

I son/sun niggaz like it's daytime

Gray cotton Louie sweatsuit, with the Ralph Lauren waistline

Smooth as a baby's ass, and I got that Baby cash

Catch me in the hood, same deals Old Navy had

Motherfuckers