Goons Gone Wild

[Verse 1: Meek Mill] Tre pound, crack crown Meek Milly, Bloodhound Grimy, thirsty, 'bout it you heard me Glizzy on de-deck Clip whole thirty Looking for these fuck boys to do these niggas dirty Ya play tough I dare you My goons, they balloon shit air you Nah nigga I ain't trying to hear you And I don't need no four pound cause I ain't trying to scare you I just take the nina raw, get up on you near you Action 40 lightning bloody near you, tear you My niggas be riding low Tinted with them choppers though We spin yo block my Mr. Softee, spot you like a domino Simon say he want you dead, I say that you got to go So we gone drop some shit on you Geronimo, asap Make that nigga Diddy bop take that, take that Send him on a trip without a space pack, bow My hood like goons gone wild Where Ernie said he don't want no beef he want a cow A fool with them tools we don't even let him touch them Get freaky with them heaters he be trying to finger fuck them Niggas creeping in my main yard, peeking through the window Bird hunting like the gun game on Nintendo Wish that I was there I probably would've let them in though And stretch one of them nigga like a limo Trying score a touchdown, nigga fuck around and catch an INO Cause I ain't never go to sleep n-o, nizzaw Can't get behind me cause my back to the wizal Gat in my drizzaws, ready to clap izzoff They gon' murder me so I got to murder them first And I gon' kill his brother cousin, him first Give them niggas brim work, chest work They say that that's the best work So I'm gon' gun them down like an expert, tise Aiming at chu and my mac gon' sneeze My refrigerator put you on freeze Fuck out of here We do them niggas right and get up out of there Same place you put your hat my niggas throwing hollows there [Verse 2: AR-AB] I'm loading up the oo-wop Listening to 2Pac I'm a dope boy so the money in the shoe box A hundred grand large, all off of hard I don't fuck with rappers all y'all frauds Calling all cars, AR-AB got a gun Crack in the bag cause AR-AB got a son And he got to eat, by any means I got two fiends, fuck a hoop dream Make it to the NBA that's a pipe dream They end up smoking rock out of pipe screen I play the night scene, hard rock pitching Forty-four with the long nose Scott Pippen I put it on the line, I put it on my mom I've been shooting niggas since they put it in my palm Put it in my hands, them cooked up grams Where I'm from all the drug dealers was the man So fuck a rap buzz, I got a rap sheet I'm a legend in jail, and trap streets [Cass and Swizz] like AR-AB just chill You just beat a body and you still trying to kill They talking to a deaf man, forty in my left hand Give a nigga wig shots then look for the next man I shoot 'til the tec jam, then pass [?] A lord take my soul if AR-AB [?] Trying to rob AR-AB niggas asking to die Last nigga tried I was booking that five Years in the cell, I called my little brother He hit both witness, then I got acquitted I wave one hand and my niggas tilt heads I tell them break a leg I ain't talking show biz I talking your kids, I make them show ribs My gun so big it take his whole head