50 Cent - Drama Never Dies lyrics

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50 Cent - Drama Never Dies lyrics

I get that gun, you know that blow and baking soda be the recipe For sure I make that .40 Cali' blow, you get the best of me The drama's gonna never end, never end Keep thinkin' I'm playin' I know for sure I'll split your mothaf**in' head, you get to testin' me You call the cops and i get knocked, I swear to the d**h of me The drama's gonna never end, never end Keep thinkin' I'm playin' It's hard, yeah, it's hard, this that New York sh** That black glove, wood grip, outline 'em and chalk sh** I don't wanna talk, say a prayer for my enemies Droptop, ten shots, I'll make your a** a memory Time to ride, homicide, I'm down with it I'll wave that chopper, hit your whip and shake the ground with it f** with N dot Bonepart, get your a** blown apart Hip hop's Napoleon, you know war, you know me then I'll hunt you like a great dane Hit you, hit you like a freight train Run off with your fake chains I'll give you mothaf**as somethin' to believe in Knife work your lungs, I'll make it hard to breathe in Little sh** could be a big enough reason You're dancin' with the wolves, fool, better feed them I feel for you, you ain't ready for the outcome n***a I'll get at you all week with the same gun I get that gun, you know that blow and baking soda be the recipe For sure I make that .40 Cali' blow, you get the best of me The drama's gonna never end, never end Keep thinkin' I'm playin' I know for sure I'll split your mothaf**in' head, you get to testin' me You call the cops and i get knocked, I swear to the d**h of me The drama's gonna never end, never end Keep thinkin' I'm playin' Me I punch every n***a first I had a fight with Maybe it's genetics, mama made me like this Cocaine baby, problem child, half crazy Children of the Corn, I've been warned so long Big strap for robberies with my little 380 I'll make your little lady miscarry a baby You leave the scene unseen when I get to trippin' Pistol whip your head hard enough to blur your vision What up, comrade, salute, I pull rank, I got bank Just f**ed up work, askin' if we'll use shanks Every clique I'm in my clique, n***a, I run sh** I put in my own work, run, get who you gon' get This is how it feels when you squeeze a Smith & Wesson When talk is not an option, it's a form of expression You got to go to work on a n***a The red sh** comin' through the shirt on a n***a My gift to a gravedigger