(feat. Lounge Mode, Solomon Childs, Wigz)



[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!