Capone - Options lyrics

rate me

(feat. Noyd)

[Capone & Noyd]

Light up! Light up! That's right! Bring it! Whatever you want!

Bring it! QB!(Guns, knives, whatever you want)

Whatever ya'll niggas want, man, whatever!

Bring money, lye, whatever you want!

You expect to come correct nigga!

Bring it, thugs, gangstas, whatever you want!

QB, Capone and Noyd, what?

[Noyd]

Niggas don't want beef, they don't wanna see me

They don't wanna be with their wiz and kids

And get fronted with heat

They don't wanna die, niggas wanna live

I know niggas wanna smoke blunts, puff puff and give

Believe niggas don't want it with the kid

Niggas rather drown down Bicardi and party and shit

You know my hoods though be bout this shit

My dunns are a hundred sick, thugs who thump, thugs who pump

You weak, we deep, niggas from Queens

And we eat niggas with Jim, and get em for bling (bling!)

You know my dun smoke more than fiends

My broads fit more coke in they ass and jeans

Which is great cause we dealin with a couple of apes

Til' we pull out these eights and get your safe

No masks, let these niggaz see our face

Pawn yourself, boy, cause we robbin the place, what?

[Chorus: Capone and Noyd]

[C]We can shoot, fight, smoke, drink

Jail, nigga, bust that ass down with shanks

[N]We can thump, chump, we aim to kill

Thug nigga put it down, the game is real

[C]We can shoot, fight, smoke, drink

Jail nigga, bust that ass down with shanks

[N]Nigga we can thump, chump, we aim to kill

Thug nigga put it down, the game is real

[Capone]

Yo, yo, hey yo, niggas never learn

Til' they shot and get a jail term

Both havin bullets is hot

The average ran by the room

And the city is ridin', cops knockin'

The streets is watchin', without shades

I don't stop, I just keep clockin'

Haters played on my bad judgment

Like dude's numbers (you want it?)

Then floss for a few summers

Newcomers walk in my steps, often I rep

Bang guns, still got corporate respect

They think they fuckin' up the projects,

Installing cameras, niggas'll shoot them shits out

And get 'em more bananas, you know the ghetto life

Jail, blood, sweat, and tatted tears

Block wars, every young bitch having kids

I'm the lost boy of Queensbridge, drama never told

Been a piranha in the streets since seven years old

Two and a half years cold, now scorchin'

Like a bullet bucked from a four fifth

Grunt nigga, fallin'

[Chorus]

[Noyd (Capone)]

Yo, yo, now we the niggas cockin' the hammers, rockin bandanas

My whole clique gangsta boy (Straight bananas!)

(Compulsive gamblers bet the X-5)

(It's money on the line, I form better, the all bets on the side)

To death niggas ride, with the guns you can get it live

(Slain in the public, the game we above it)

And we don't discuss nothin, we leave the guns buckin'

You get knocked down with four pounds, keep frontin'

We rep Queensbridge and you heard of us all

There's Noyd and Capone and we murder you all

(Leave you in the morgue, toe tag, and polaroid picture)

(If my shit jam, and don't bust, then Noyd'll hit you)

And I won't stop 'til I get a man, pop a nigga

Or pull out the box cutter and 'ox the nigga

(Who can stop this killa? Capone, the block guerilla)

(I snap shots, still got the picture)

[Chorus]