| Murder is a part of the game and the jealous got me strapped
|
| Crunch nappy sack, sick homies who got my back
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| Dead bodies, handcuffs, and house rage
|
| Two and the one up on that dope track, sportin gangsta brains
|
| Me and my homies feelin bail up in the hooptie
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| with the fifth degree in Martin, the car ain’t startin
|
| Some haters rolled up fo’deeper than the Chevy
|
| Wavin Techs up in the air like Machine-Gun Kelly
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| I tell all my partners to bail up out the bucket
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| One raised the clout and the other gettin ducked quick
|
| enough, been rough so I begin to bust, straight dome shots
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| droppin got them shakin like they cop lockin
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| Ski skirt clout smokin down the street
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| with his player partner beatin up at these niggas up in the other seat
|
| I check myself see if I'm shot, but they don't hit me Shoppers singin like Whitney they wanna fit me With a Full Metal Jacket, but they don't get me Not one bullet touch my body, not even nick me We |
| rushed my homie to the nearest Carsa hospital
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| But it’s too late he all felt stiff like a pop sickle (damn!)
|
| (Chorus w/variations: Kokane)
|
| Situations gotta stick, I got my own cop tryin to test me Got me caught up in this drama, yeah!
|
| I don’t give a fuck about you
|
| As long as the pigs don’t go step on my shoes
|
| Got me caught up in this drama, yeah!
|
| (Spice 1)
|
| We shipped this spot for homicide, heat emergency
|
| Feelin go perform my own open heart surgery
|
| Because my partner shouldn’t died like that
|
| We gotta show my homie love and get them busters back
|
| So we mobb through the ghetto lookin for revenge
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| But we can’t find a soul, fools talkin bout us gettin cold
|
| Behold a Chevy with gold deeds
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| could these be the headers who made my hooptie look like Swiss cheese
|
| Fools musta turned the lights off and let’s get closer
|
| Don’t let em see you pull your mask down, pull out the Dullja’s
|
| With tales from the creepin on the hush feelin leave fo’suckers in a dutch
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| The midnight drama don’t stop so if you get some dirt
|
| they’ll dig you in the clear, cause player, you’ll be outta here
|
| We ain’t no suckers, we doin it like John Gottie
|
| We left them fools in the parkin lot with open bodies
|
| (Chorus w/variations: Kokane)
|
| Situations gotta stick, I got my own cop tryin to test me Got me caught up in this drama, yeah!
|
| I don’t give a fuck about you
|
| As long as the pigs don’t go step on my shoes
|
| Got me caught up in this drama, yeah!
|
| (Spice 1)
|
| We built up out the scene with out a clue
|
| People call the police but that’s all they can do We hit the freeway in a bucket, feelin no remorse
|
| We regulatin in the ghetto with deadly force
|
| And ain’t nobody tellin nothin about the decease
|
| Cause if you snitch your family count will get decrease
|
| up in the game them things gonna be poppin ya, 187 in the style of the Mafia
|
| This ain’t no business for busters, trick ass haters
|
| Try their pager, jealous cause you livin major
|
| Hit me on my pager, sharp as a razor
|
| And suckers who don’t feel me, get the Red Laser
|
| And sicker than a hangover, fools try to slang boulders
|
| but get snatched out their Range Rovers
|
| (Chorus w/variations: Kokane)
|
| Situations gotta stick, I got my own cop tryin to test me Got me caught up in this drama, yeah!
|
| I don’t give a fuck about you
|
| As long as the pigs don’t go step on my shoes
|
| Got me caught up in this drama, yeah!
|
| Situations gotta stick, I got my own cop to test me Got me caught up in this drama, yeah!
|
| Now I don’t give a fuck about you
|
| As long as the pigs don’t go step on my shoes
|
| Got me caught up in this drama, yeah!
|
| Situations gotta stick, I got my own cop tryin to test me Got me caught up in this drama, yeah!
|
| Now I don’t give a fuck about you
|
| As long as the pigs don’t go step on my shoes
|
| Got me caught up in this drama, yeah!
|
| Situations gotta stick, drama, I don’t give a fuck about you, yeah
|
| Situations gotta stick, I got my own cop tryin to test me Got me caught up in this drama, yeah! |