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Uhh, okay, y'all know what this is |
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Jim Capo nigga, we back on this motherf**ker |
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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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F**ked 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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F**k 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 f**ked, 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 motherf**ker 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 motherf**ker 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 - motherf**kers 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 feelin the fall |
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I'm makin sure that my enemy blood's fillin the halls |
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When the Twista got static, I'll be killin them all |
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Cause that's drama mayne.. |
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[Chorus] |