Asher Roth - Choices Lyrics

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Ft Action Bronson

In here bloody and muddy

I'm smashing bottles of bubbly

Run for cover, brother

This thing here b-bout to get ugly

Under a submarine bares the kitchen cupboard be

Californication agin' more than David Duchovny

You making my Jack a double please

Serve it with the knuckle cheese

Crocodile Hunter and some Buddy Lee Dungarees

Barney Rubble, trouble lover, something Hubble never seen

Floating like a butter wing stinging 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 deceiving with your penis eating 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 longer, I won't ever go away

It's like they say: you go to Vegas and 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 something great

Til some overrated lames in the game got in the way

I'mma 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

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Teething a type of pain, 18 is the riper stage

It ain't easy to fight the feeling when dealing with hype and fame

Leading the life of caine, I'll leave him and swipe his chain

Breathing, nice to meet you

Good evening, glad you came...

[Action Bronson]

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

? infuse the oil, basil

Standing 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 glow jackets, Navajo padded

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, 85 dollars

Better choose wise bitch, you fuckin with some scholars

Old Impalas, jumping like Rasheed Wallace

Smoking 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...

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