Next Level Lyrics

sample: showbiz, ag, showbiz, ag, showbiz, ag

[Show]
All I see is blinking lights, track boards & fat mics
950's, SB-12's, MP-60's
Shit is thumpin, eardrums pumpin
The shit is tight, aight? Cuz the sample is tight, right?
Bite this one and leave teethless
Never sweat that cuz I'm a cool cat just like Heathcliff
Peep this, give up the loot
It's '94 an' bitch ass niggas yeah still get the boot
They nod flakes cuz I be flowin' in all states
Show kept diggin & diggin and now he got more crates
That's right nigga, roll that dime
And I'm the only living matter that controls my mind
Peace to every single rapper on this whole earth
Sellouts got no worth, I think they better go soul search

showbiz, ag
(brothas can't belive how the skills have died)

[AG]
Now here I go again, ready to flow again
And if the coast ain't clear, oh yeah, I'm still going in
Get it together or you'll be layin on a stretcher
I betcha I'm a getcha, the number one heart stressa'
Sorry black, that's right it's a cardiac arrest
Try to triple team the best and where's the party at?
Lots to know and I'm a warrior like Shogun
And when the show's done
Stacks & stacks is how the hoes come
I bruise ya feelin', confidence is to the cieling
If I'm sick I'll pick a chick for sexual healings
I'm unique, a freak like Malik
In the twilights with more highlights than Dominique
Around the woods is where the ?? stops
To the streets, the jeeps, my peeps in the cellblock
I'm not the best but I'll give ya stress
To flatter me, ya strategy gotta be more complex than chess
Stop bluffin' cuz you ain't saying nothin, G
And start lookin' on the A to the fuckin' G
Last LP we got down right
Showin' all these corny muthafuckas
what hiphop's supposed to sound like
See AG and the brotha Show quiet as kept
It's best that you step on the low

showbiz, ag
(brothas can't believe how the skills have died)

[AG]
Well it's me, meanin' the A to the dash
I'm fast ta get the cash now I'm gone like the past
What's the remedy?
Suckaz betta get they own identity
And to the enemy you better roll like there's ten of me
Fake lords they get strangled with mic cords
Takin' beats from my LP for sure ain't healthy
Patterson Projects is where I rest
But I claim the whole planet cuz it's mine Goddamnit
I'm hard, quick to pull a fake brotha' card
Wreck Boston, run this shit in Portland like ??
It's hard to face defeat when you're raised in the street
No surrender and no retreat
Now dance with the devil, no not hardly
Eventhough I mamba like La Bamba and smoke ganja
like Bob Marley
A bag of sess puts me at my rest
You say it's silly, that's my theory
Hit the Phillie and let it rest

showbiz, ag
(brothas can't belive how the skills have died)