Power To The Peso Songtext / Lyric

(feat. Lounge, Wiggs & Solomon Childs)



(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



(Cappadonna)

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!



(Wigz)

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!