Back to the previous page

Artist: Cappadonna f/ Lounge Mode, Solomon Childs, Wigz
Album:  The Struggle 
Song:   Power to the Peso 
Typed by: CnoEvil@Wu-Lyricz.Com 

[Intro: Lounge Mode] 
Yeah, nigga! 
Aiyo, what up man? This is all BB right here 
Word, yo, we just slid in from the back door 
It's Code:Red, nigga, level four, ya'll know what it is, man 
I told ya'll, huh? I didn't? Watch this one, though (Goon Squad!) 

[Lounge Mode] 
Aiyo, I know niggas that get dusted and wild out 
They foul out, talk to the cops and play they style out 
Me? I'm real hood, and them niggas that was fakin' before 
I take they jaws, cuz Lord, I wish they would 
Yes, Lord, it's all good, you know I hustle 
In the tanktop with no muscle, all in the hood 
And roll dice by the elevator, and post up 
And wait there, if he comin' in, dog, gotta wait til later 
I squeeze off, ease off from the nine milly 
And my niggas be like, "Watch how he whine, Billy!" 
And for the record, these niggas gotta come kill me 
Where I'm at, in the Hill, by the Ooh, silly 
Danger, danger, ain't nothin' change but space 
Ask Space and Daxe, in how they manage 
And how I do damage, fuck takin' flicks for cameras 
You know them bandanas, run with them clip bananas 
I'm on the hunt for the big dough to stick Santana 
Plus these labels exec's come in a calm manner 
N.S.Beezy, I stay easy 
Fuck what ya'll niggas is talkin', I'm off the heezy 

In the hood, you get fake hugs and cold stares 
Heat holdin' niggas with the apple colored wears 
Try'nna get them greens, premature niggas get knocked out and dope fiend 
Niggas stand up, Staten Island, rip you and ya mans up 
Hands up, yeah, kid, it's the real 
Rough necks on this side, cats makin' a deal 
Coke in the bill, weapons appeal, do what ya feel 
From Park Hill to Jungle Nillz 
So much that we gotta pay the bills 
Give us the cream or get killed.... 

Goon Squad! 

Aiyo, my jewels so chunky, I got a brass monkey 
With a, rock in his ear, two chips in his tooth 
No cuff', I throw the ol' joint off the roof 
It's a new year, I'm layin' new words in the booth 
Fuck "The Truth", I'm "The Reason" why rap needs to +change+ 
The same four quarters in +the game+, I got change 
Nickles and dimes, rhymes, styles of Beneen 
See, Cash Rules Everything, lord, I need C.R.E.A.M. 
Gotta team that could elbow out the meat cooler 
I'm a hustler, I could sell a brick to a jeweler 
Off your front porch, g off ya back deck 
This me, Lounge and the team, we dishin' up the projects 

[Solomon Childs] 
We killas as sharp as knives 
Work for hire, special key be the paralyzer 
Got my own killa slang and dancers 
Certain hammers for certain circumstances 
These the roads of Allah's deed, knawhatimean? 
I took the advances and bulletproofed the Suburbans 
No handouts, stay earnin' mine 
The hood hate to see a nigga shine and now I know 
That a ho gon' always be a ho 
And 23's can't fit on a '98 Tahoe 
And ain't no superstars comin' off Apollo 
The chicks around the way frontin' with tongue rings, don't swallow 
My mind was raped as a child, Rocky could of never beat Apollo 
The feds could of never caught 'Cino
P. Diddy would of never fell for a bird like J.Lo, power to the peso, nigga!