Decisions, Decisions

Atlanta: Gateway to the South<br><br>Verse 1: Big Gipp<br><br>It`s a stray man, living in these veins man<br>Suckin on a piece of sugar pain, chucking chains<br>Take the wind out thru<br>We never wash away the pain, so let the stain soak<br>Who`s in the wave? I dids fingertips<br>carry language computer, Ray had Dad removed<br>Swimsuits with green bags<br>I`m on the corner with my butt up, sellin you product<br>Women puttin theyself in positions to get cut up<br><br>Hook:<br><br>Up out`cha guts, fear, up for what?<br>Nothin but them Goodie<br><br>Verse 2: T-Bu<br><br>Osmosis, with that thang up under the pillow crush<br>Caught in the crossfire between Yankees and 49ers<br>Rivals, but the South remain calm<br>Neutral but we see blood that make homeboys hate at each other`s lives<br>Over colours and thangs, that they can bring<br>To the next plain, but the toots in blue, badges<br>Who are the biggest gangs? <br>In Babylon, dyin slowly but surely<br>Malicious drivers with hairpin triggers<br>On the loose like juice<br>And white America couldn`t stand it<br>LAPD plannin incriminatin evidence<br>Jurors under jag order<br>But we talkin outside the courtrooms<br>Shootin birds at the judges<br>Fuck Teks and go and plug us out on racial slurs<br>Destroyin documents or complaints from black workers<br><br>Chorus:<br><br>The battles no longer physical, it`s from within<br>You live to die and you die to live again<br>But you can`t win for losing, what sides are you choosin?<br>Decisions, Decisions to make<br>Decisions, Decisions to make<br><br>Verse 3: Khujo, Cee-Lo<br><br>Legalise the dope and make paper<br>Think it`s time to pull another caper <br>outta my bag of tricks<br>These niggas ain`t recognisin how they usin us to get rich<br>Niggas dyin and shit<br>I putta, broke my back for the *?scress?*<br>That`s what I did when I was a kid<br>Always had the thought of doin a bid<br>In the back of my mind, a life of crime<br>was the last resort, I knew that goin to court drama wasn`t likely<br>I nicked scrimis like a chemist<br>Cookin up a pan like the Witch Doctor<br>Stroll beside cha like a thousand volts<br>Over the edge pf the Hope with the CIA sellin coke<br>To make them bloat, float up the river Key Louie<br>Liquor sipper as I strategise a plan to infiltrate the crooked<br>new, what?, ways to live a life<br>Who we got to fight?<br>Kid, it bite, are you dyin tonight?<br><br>Relentless realism regardless represents<br>South West goes out, possess the manifest that`s heaven sent<br>What`s said is meant to the fullest extent<br>No nonsense because my conscience wouldn`t be content<br>But just a little wealth, a little fame<br>But your mind-frame will keep you living the same<br>And it`s a shame that niggas would settle with the ghetto<br>Huh, hoes have some clothes that ain`t makin what you suppose<br>Let your eyes close to what your contract shows<br>and fine print, they gotta get back every cent you spent<br>You content cuz, you do what everybody does<br>The industry that change you from the person you was<br>Knee-deep in the struggle<br>Two part-time jobs to juggle<br>Gotta lady and a c that you can`t hardly feed<br>Any day your life could end so you depend<br>on the reciting and the writing when you got the spare time to spend<br>To keep you stable, hopin one day you`ll be able<br>To be a commodity on somebody`s record label<br>Got your chance, twenty thousand dollar advance<br>and a car and all of a sudden you a star at the bar<br>ballin, callin the waiter to bring one of they finest wines<br>Then you started snortin lines, your life defines<br>the misconception of stayin down<br>You can`t be influenced by everybody you hang round<br>You shoulda been more appreciative<br>of the life that you were blessed to live<br>A hundred percent is what you got to give<br>Cos ain`t no tellin, yo` bullshit start smellin<br>And you wonder why your record ain`t sellin<br>no more, endin up with no dough<br>and no respect back in the projects<br>and building 23, right next door to me, heheheh<br><br>Chorus<br><br>Hook