All About Drama

It’s all about drama
Yeah, and that’s the way that it is

It’s all about drama
Yeah, and that’s the way that it is

(Verse 1: Big Scoob)
Man I sell drama, wholesale prices, Big Scoob
Come to my hood and you leave iceless
Feel the pain that the streets could bring
Feel the slugs as they hit your brain
BK, push through, leaving you homesick
Brownsville niggas make you run home quick
It’s like a bowling ball on your forehead
You can’t fight, lay your whole team down, just like a strike
I’m real with it, you can find me on the hill with it
Bring your gun you can still get killed with it
Two headed nickel, no tell when the cops come
We bring drama like dum-da-dum-dum
Trendsetters, crazy, don’t make me murder your baby, your baby
Y’all niggas wear bubble gum drawers just to pop shit
J-Fame, Sleepy, Vegas, all hot shit

It’s all about drama
Yeah, and that’s the way that it is

It’s all about drama
Yeah, and that’s the way that it is

(Verse 2: Sleepy Eyes)
Ay, yo, let me get a paper to write
Plus a pen to use, I run through tracks like
Carl Lewis tennis shoes
Run through packs and market my chemicals
Hump hood rats who gargle my genitals
Models and interludes
The big chrome that I ride shoot through your alloys
And swallow your inner tubes, I bend the rules
Play dirty like James Worthy
And quick with tools
Flame 30 at Jake 30
I skip through school
Play early at 8:30
Your clique is fools I place birdies
In grace early, I do this rap shit
For my bitches and thugs
Till them out of town niggas
Getting triples for drugs
Spot runners to the young chicks stripping in clubs
Hoop riders sticking ‘em up and switching to dubs
I spit like a pistol with slugs
So devoted, I play the block for nickels and bubs

(Verse 3: Celph Titled)
Now I might hustle some crack just to feed my seeds
But I ain’t got none, so every red cent is for me
On Columbian blocks, posting up
Ballsy enough to sling yayo there
You can say I got cocoanuts
Knock, knock open up
Guess who it is
It’s that boy Celph Titled with a gun to your kids
And my CD booklet got some 3D crook shit
Blueprints, diagrams and recipes to cook with
Any day of the week, I’m letting the tool spray
No need for an appointment can shoot for Tuesday
I got guns and songs and songs about guns
Had gold fronts in ‘92, robbing kids for Nike shoes
Look at the life we choose, we ain’t just some rappers
We fill coliseums, wile out and hang from rafters
Valedictorian from the school of hard knocks
So fuck Dow Jones, my rifles got large stocks

(Verse 4: Ali Vegas)
Ay, yo, I flow nice, seven digits show price
Struggle my whole life, hustle and roll dice
In the hood with the Gods, Vegas cause I’m good with the cards
While niggas was flipping packs, I was getting stacks
With a few hands of eights and few hands of penny pack
I can get ‘em smacked with the mac, but I ain’t really into that
Young Carl Bruce, swifter than mongoose, do a block with my arms loose
Palming my orange juice, look I live the hard knock life
Dickies suit, Caterpillar, Carhartt life
The prince don’t get along with cats
Ice grill me, here’s a cold shoulder to go along with that
I usually perform with cats, but I’m back to my biz
Ali Vegas uprising, that’s what it is
Eyes low, one of the illest from Queens
And I’m a body every young rapper until I’m the king, mother fucker