I'll roundhouse you into a fucking basket
Two options, you dream it or you make it
She seen that geechi shit, ain't been to church since
Never wear watches time causes losses in options,
See you later, cause baby i'm a player, and all i heard was
I'm out of options without a pause i tell caution to the entourage
Can't be positive, when the ghetto's where you live
My options, let him roll, bleed, or die is my object.. if
Of better days when you ain't have to settle for whatever played
So many options to be weighed as i continue on with this crusade.
We complain with sobbing, struggling to arrange the options we aim to choose
I'm just trying to paint that picture, when i'm rhyming up in this booth
I’m a king to these niggas, love a queen, fuck the bitches
But only in my dreams cause it seems that's where all my options is
I'm through trial, no more smiles, for a couple years
Looking at the options some choose to be mobsters
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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