Power To The Peso – Cappadonna – letras

[Intro: Lounge Mode]Yeah, nigga!Aiyo, what up man? This is all BB right hereWord, yo, we just slid in from the back doorIt’s Code:Red, nigga, level four, ya’ll know what it is, manI told ya’ll, huh? I didn’t? Watch this one, though (Goon Squad!)[Lounge Mode]Aiyo, I know niggas that get dusted and wild outThey foul out, talk to the cops and play they style outMe? I’m real hood, and them niggas that was fakin’ beforeI take they jaws, cuz Lord, I wish they wouldYes, Lord, it’s all good, you know I hustleIn the tanktop with no muscle, all in the hoodAnd roll dice by the elevator, and post upAnd wait there, if he comin’ in, dog, gotta wait til laterI squeeze off, ease off from the nine millyAnd my niggas be like, « Watch how he whine, Billy! »And for the record, these niggas gotta come kill meWhere I’m at, in the Hill, by the Ooh, sillyDanger, danger, ain’t nothin’ change but spaceAsk Space and Daxe, in how they manageAnd how I do damage, fuck takin’ flicks for camerasYou know them bandanas, run with them clip bananasI’m on the hunt for the big dough to stick SantanaPlus these labels exec’s come in a calm mannerN.S.Beezy, I stay easyFuck what ya’ll niggas is talkin’, I’m off the heezy[Cappadonna]In the hood, you get fake hugs and cold staresHeat holdin’ niggas with the apple colored wearsTry’nna get them greens, premature niggas get knocked out and dope fiendNiggas stand up, Staten Island, rip you and ya mans upHands up, yeah, kid, it’s the realRough necks on this side, cats makin’ a dealCoke in the bill, weapons appeal, do what ya feelFrom Park Hill to Jungle NillzSo much that we gotta pay the billsGive us the cream or get killed….Goon Squad![Wigz]Aiyo, my jewels so chunky, I got a brass monkeyWith a, rock in his ear, two chips in his toothNo cuff’, I throw the ol’ joint off the roofIt’s a new year, I’m layin’ new words in the boothFuck « The Truth », I’m « The Reason » why rap needs to +change+The same four quarters in +the game+, I got changeNickles and dimes, rhymes, styles of BeneenSee, Cash Rules Everything, lord, I need C.R.E.A.M.Gotta team that could elbow out the meat coolerI’m a hustler, I could sell a brick to a jewelerOff your front porch, g off ya back deckThis me, Lounge and the team, we dishin’ up the projects[Solomon Childs]We killas as sharp as knivesWork for hire, special key be the paralyzerGot my own killa slang and dancersCertain hammers for certain circumstancesThese the roads of Allah’s deed, knawhatimean?I took the advances and bulletproofed the SuburbansNo handouts, stay earnin’ mineThe hood hate to see a nigga shine and now I knowThat a ho gon’ always be a hoAnd 23’s can’t fit on a ’98 TahoeAnd ain’t no superstars comin’ off ApolloThe chicks around the way frontin’ with tongue rings, don’t swallowMy mind was raped as a child, Rocky could of never beat ApolloThe feds could of never caught ‘CinoP. Diddy would of never fell for a bird like J.Lo, power to the peso, nigga