Opt. Out

There's always one way round tha otha, catch me slippin' any day my pound is thunda. But then again, I'm slimpin', one leg twist when I catch my unda... Tha wear is not one, I'm boxin' it, no wonda. You got swag borrowed from a tag n tussle, I get mines ridin' mags n muscle. No flex, I stay baggin' and bustle, the hustle is not braggin' or up-show. I low key play it cool n duck po's, 5-0 eyeballin' and get no, no dirt, no prob., no cause for what knows. I zig zag keep 'em on a rough row, you ain't gettin' anythang from me yo. Anti-lock jaw of tha century, I knock those. You might be one of a nut though, I crack shells and chuck 'stachio... my stash yo, is cash wrapped, bagged and trashed... So, you think it's the same, it ain't game famin', it's called must and I trust, you not know. Do you not know, we from tha same era, not block though, I kick props for acknowledgement, I clocked tha suppose. Suppose you was in my shoes, not optional.