Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Drama Iz Real (studio), artist - The Game. Date of issue: 12.11.2006
Song language: English
Drama Iz Real (studio) |
| Drama is real, like not wakin up |
| I’m breakin up grounds when this patriot thrust |
| Your mouth is on shut, your emotions are hidden |
| For you to handle your business, you are more than driven |
| If you kill it no more standin on that corner like a stop sign |
| Everytime you spotted they call it shot time |
| Not at the gym but in the grim reaper’s hands |
| You important if a bullet hits, injure your plans |
| This is not an adventure, but a full-time duty |
| If you seen how niggas hit the club, they pullin out uzis |
| Sometimes bruisin and grazin, mostly takin |
| No more sleep for the shooter, no more of that hangin |
| No mo' trustin hoes you ain’t know fo' ten plus |
| No mo' smokin with the homies, no mo' late night clubs |
| Cause the victim, is ready to stick him like a mousetrap |
| I’m 'bout to rap, you better be 'bout peepin out cash |
| If there’s blood on my Nikes I done murdered a nigga |
| If the stash spot smokin I done murdered a nigga |
| San Quinn got a hurt for the nigga, it get worser for niggas |
| We take this beef shit further than niggas |
| Streets are shady, the Game got curtains for niggas |
| All-of-a-sudden-ass killers never heard of these niggas |
| Have your whole family cryin a river, we’ll murder you niggas |
| We take this beef shit personal nigga |
| I ain’t met a nigga yet could fuck with this rap vet |
| I’m the realest since I came in the game on Kam back |
| Rest in peace to Mausberg, gotta live with that |
| Keep the M2 on my hip, I live with that |
| Eat with that, sleep with that, come get me |
| Four-fifty put somethin through your son Easter basket |
| Six in your truck, get you each a casket |
| Put termites in your box let 'em eat your cabbage |
| A wife right here, see if she can weave through traffic |
| Everybody gotta die, when the beef is active |
| If you know Game, you know I’ll never give free passes |
| But I give choices, how you want it, metal or plastic |
| Life is real, pedal to traffic, no spots on my tail |
| Cops on the payroll so me and Quinn live well |
| And I can still get a nigga the hill, your bitch as well |
| Shotgun got mo' punks than shells |
| See the Escalade got 'em runnin downhill, snowball niggas |
| We throw vapors out of truck windows, blow our figures |
| Suede corners out the sunroof, the fifth or the Ruger |
| Broad daylight, blow the windows out of your Cougar |
| Move in the S5, plus my, leather dust fly |
| Spark up a dutch, Game put niggas in a coffin too much |
| Turn niggas kids into orphans too much, In God We Trust — nah |
| Keep the fifth close like Starsky & Hutch |
| Your daughter cryin it’s just tuck, but so what |
| Blow the dutch, southpaw bust out your whole fronts |
| Have you eatin soup for months, broken jaw, lick your shit out of straws |
| I guess I got that same ol' harm |
| I ain’t for play, the Game is raw |
| Specialize in death jackets, here try these bullets on |
| And next time have all my cheese cause if you owe me |
| Guns O-U-T, we all gon' squeeze |