All About Drama-Sleepy Eyez/Paula Perry/Ali Vegas

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 B*****s 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 f**k 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 f**ker