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Artist: Capone & Noyd
Album:  Violator - The Album V2.0
Song:   Options
Typed by:

[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?

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

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'


[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)