This is a song about "Optics"

Conclusion as my optics opt to start perusing

She floating round winners, now your bitch you losing

With the finest logic set in motion a plot with televised optics

It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks

Oh its over whole time she knows this

So prepare your optics, here comes the synopsis

Until then, my feet planted on the ground, shadowboxing my conscience

Because when i ignite i'm damaging your nerve endings and optics

Givin' the topics, spit 'em through optics, from the ghetto that malcolm roamed,

I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed

Hold up now don’t get it twisted, i ain't hating, do your thing

Focus your optics it's obvious they're sneaking