Ghostface k**ah - Drama lyrics

Aiyo, where the f** is that blunt at? Where y'all n***as hoggin' the sh** man? Two pulls of that sh** n***a start gettin' paranoid and shh Get your f**in', get your feet off my f**in' table n***a! f** you think you at home, with your cheap fur on? sh** look like it 'bout to bite somethin' and sh** n***a Yo, yo, it was the night before he got popped Big jars of haze, Cheech and 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 n***a bustin' out they punk heat I make a ma**acre, 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' b**hes, come over! Hopin' you fall for the bait, thinkin' you safe Have that a** sweatin' like T.D. Jakes I want the ones n***a, you non-believers you can ask your Momma Now that's drama Uh, 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' cous', I do my art to favor, watch this I never been this itchy, hope these cops just Get a donut 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'mma lay Nice play, just too bad it's your last Couple bundles of D, and 200 cash that sat you in the gra** I watch the teams line up, shake hands, guess the game's over f*ggot n***a 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'mma 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 f** you think you is, Ron O'Neal? Tat-tat, what the f** when that 9-milli peel (Is it real?) Realer than Pittsburg (Steel) Yo Ghost pa** the toast, these n***as is daffodils Got bu*t-naked b**hes countin' half a mil', gloves on Fully dressed b**hes 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 n***as say they pushin' keys but we don't see pianos n***as say they pushin' Phantoms, we don't see the opera n***as steady rockin' dreads, you ain't even rasta Take your New Era off, and reveal The f*ggot n***a you are or your cap gettin' peeled Then we out to Brazil, I know n***as in Negril that'll chop your f**in' 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 n***a we in the field like Chris Johnson It's 2010, how the f** we get six Thompsons? Top 10, how the f** you gon' forget Compton? Every rapper on your list'll get they sh** stomped in I started Su-Wu, I'm the reason for that 5 sh** Came in the game, on that f**in' "Ready to Die" sh** Sold 9 mil', ended up on some fly sh** Naked pictures, R&B b**hes all in my Sidekick How I be k**in' the p**y, should be a hate crime Got a Blackberry, was gettin' too much face time Back to f**in' project b**hes, now I hate dimes All they want is money my n***a, I can't waste mine I son/sun n***as like it's daytime Gray cotton Louie sweatsuit, with the Ralph Lauren waistline Smooth as a baby's a**, and I got that Baby cash Catch me in the hood, same deals Old Navy had Motherf**ers