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