Choices (feat. Asher Roth) - Action Bronson

This shit is jammin' though

In here bloody and muddy

I’m smashin' bottles of bubbly

Run for cover, brother, this thing here b-bout to get ugly

Yup and under a submarine bare as the kitchen cupboard be

Californication, Agent Mulder, David Duchovny

You makin' my Jack a double please

Serve it with the knuckle cheese

Crocodile Hunter and some Buddy Lee Dungarees

Barney Rubble, trouble lover, somethin' Hubble never seen

Floatin' like a butter wing stingin' like a bumble thing

I love it when I hear them scream

Eat it like a tangerine

Make you feel uneasy like your feet up on a trampoline

Don’t be so deceivin' with your penis eatin' fantasy

My semen is the meanest

Undefeated when I plant a seed

Hatin on me, hatin on me, wait for my decay

You gon' have to wait bit longer

I won’t ever go away

It’s like they say

You go to Vegas and while most of it will stay

You in dirty with some herpes

Is it worth the price you pay

You deserve it little twerp

On the verge of somethin' great

'Til some overrated lames in the game got in the way

I’ma have to take it over

James and D Wade

It’s neither the Black Sheep

Would you look at David Spade

Yeah I’m here to save the day

Caped Crusader, Super 8

If you’re squeamish at proceeding I suggest you look away

Yeah, beat it, best believe it when Arena takes the stage

You need a lighter when I feed 'em a liter of Tanqueray

Teething a type of pain, eighteen is the ripest age

Ain’t easy to fight the feelin' when dealin' with hype and fame

Leadin' the life of caine

I’ll leave him and swipe his chain

Breathin', nice to meet you

Good evening, glad you came

First of all, don’t ever say a fuckin' thing about the homie

Call a favor in and leave your dyke mother very lonely

You a phony doggy, holy shit

Know the flow exquis-

Eyes low, one-handed I control the whip

No reservations needed to get the table

I walk in, the chef calls me Chef that’s my label

Shaved Ricotta Salada, infuse the oil, basil

Standin' like a man in situations, get disabled

A lot of hundreds in the jacket pocket

Know I blast the rocket, lift you in the air, just like an astronaut is

Lack the passion novice

We play on All-Madden

Old 'Lo jackets, Navajo patterns

Been a grown man since the day I was born

You strange and deformed

You sit at home while I get paid to perform

Now we put em on the Greyhound, eighty-five dollars

Better choose wise bitch

You fuckin' with some scholars

Old Impalas Jumpin' like Rasheed Wallace

Smokin' joints like a barbecue pit

I’m honestly sick

Some would say retarded and shit

My mind sharp cause I eat garlic and shit

Swervin' the whip quick

Little dick