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.

Get On

Escape the fate you all hate, retaliate by raisin' the stake we all state. Get it and get with it hip gittaz. The day's await, don't believe the hype and stay yo ass awake. Hata's can hate, I'm on that next level swayin' from flakes. You can't ensue a posture that's part of a fake, but to re-animate a composure sOoo cake. Embody a character not one of the same. You see, I ain't come up and came, I came up and come down on you svckas, soo lame. For real though, you wanna talk front, foe's, and real dough?! B!tch please, it ain't even about those... Move the fvck on and tackle the closed show. All sh!t happens, no matta the back thens, it's a new now, forget what you had when?!... I'm ramblin' captain, officially whack none, you might be.. I'm retracin' it back some. Sup, you connectin' me, I'm not done. Infectious disease, these cats come, no respect for the G's, you oughta gum-clap yo mouth to tha one gun unda tha sun. One God, no fear, no prob. for tha realist, ones to adhere. Add my ad here, no promotions, I dunn dropp'd EV due to not givin' a rear. Non-profit, b!tches.

Change Game

When the good turns bad, the bad tries good, ain't no tellin' if I can keep the hood out w/o shellin'. You see them body bags wrapped, stacked highya than a ex-convicted felon's...track list. And when you pour liquor, otha's be on that dank, dark, piss. What is not to desist, the cease is left upon you before the grim comes up and gift. Givin' the almighty a reason to shift and change game, you may not know the time of a cliff, but when it goes, it'll be too late to repent. I sent my deeds up to him, specially marked note, to see if I'm in. Heaven is only so thin, the few of the sinna's can win, push forward even when things are lookin' so slim. And I must concede, I'm not the only, movin' from tha mood that's suddenly dim. Tha light that's opposin' my right is sinkin', can't swim. I'm pretty sure tha melody is he who is not, is thy own him. You see tha verbage, verbatimly discourage those who think he is not one who calls himself men... A man, what have you, hidin' between the fan of the flames. I can manage my game, it speaks for itself when I came up and swang, low pro, I got my swag from tha EastSide of the LBCeizure and slang. One way or anotha, I'm comin' up and can't change.

3rd Degree Burna

Gotta compound, calm down, it's the tri-fecta infectious ways to connect us. You should see the perplex-a computational investus, semi-knockdown of an inevita-bust that links the cause to the trust. In God we must, I'll take the rust and 'Wash.' it down with filla's and up. Mike 'Thrilla' pleads "what have we done, lord what have we become" the world has not begun... To undastand life's purpose defeats the worth's surface, it begins to shine, even after prime... full service. I'm next to my nine, and I bet you'd think she'd decline, one squeeze and full blown comin' up after mines. I'm talkin' bout one of the otha, despite you thinkin', I pack the piece up w/ rubba. Ditch the deed and the snitch'll bleed, one way ova the otha. No tellin' who's who of my blunda, the picture paints a plight of one deemed to go unda.

The Unit's of Ame

The politikal prowess is bound by the all mess, we created somethin' so cynical by now, you all guess. If it wasn't for one step, determination and concepts, no movement, a long stretch... to thank the powerful offsets. Since the 50's and 60's, the history uplifts me, and be sho it convince breeds, to know how this culture is empty. 'Livin' out the ghet-to, supremely not the net though...' I fret for the course is debt owed, I feel for those who've not met dough.. propa. Whether the acrrual is not the.., the duel is opera, siphon cash from the gas that's completely un-stoppa. 2012, 2013, might as well 20 to infinity, there is no ending greed, not even internally, the side of the coin who is flipp'd from this side, is the groin to be died. Martyrdom is thy enemy, and they grown from teh sin degree. Like graduates of the misery, die tragic is the end disease. When will it stop? Consider this, I might be who you think I'm not.

Ready or Not

I feed off of assumptions, breathe out production. You not the only one in conjunction, based on the idea of re-uppin' the luck friend. Myself is I, and I is the self that see's shit through out of the eye. Of the... beholder, I can be mightier than souljah's, you seem to be worried and I am just coastin'. Who's not to fool, when toastin' is frozen, like the credit crunch of the olde gen., they raped the wallets of hard-workin' folks and... wall street boastin', bailed out of a nationwide corrosion. D'you see my head is asplosion, I think not homie, I'm just bold and, takin' my time is not unlike threatenin' a motion, my rolla coasta ride is part of a growin'... up and I speak not of the luck, I've been tried and true not havin' to buck. The creepin' hasn't come up, when all you need to do is settle and duck. Otherwise, the gat is stuck, on sprayin' you sleepin' with the otha fvcks.

Clock'd Up

The sky is the limit and the flight of the livin' is a, part of a gift n we oughta be shiftin'... down

memory lane, up to tha new wave of the game. No wishin', it's part of a blame to the ones who be

Strickli' in vain, by the light of the flame, a bruise so highly inane. And the Snively is pain, for

those who've lost one of the same, I know you know of a phase, that'll wash out with grains from

a bottle of J...-n-Coke. The time is depraved, let alone, those up in graves, I'll smoke one to the

ashes, if I may. Count down to the day we all surface to say...