f/ 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!