Next Level (Nyte Time Mix)

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(A.G.)

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(A.G.)

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(A.G.)

All I see is blinkin' lights, track boards, and fat mics

950s, SP12s, MP60s

Shit is thumping, ear drums pumpin'

The shit is type hype cause the sample is tight, right?

Bite this one and leave teethless

Never sweat that, cause I'm a cool cat, just like Heathcliff

Peep this, give up the loot

It's '94 and bitch ass ****, yeah they still get the boot

The Northlakes, 'cause I be flowin' in all states

Show kept diggin' and diggin', now he got more crates

That's right ****, roll that dime, and I'm

The only living matter that controls my mind

Peace to every single rapper on this whole earth

Sell-out's got no worth, I think they better go soul search

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(A.G.)

(Brothas can’t believe how the skills have gotten)

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(A.G.)

(Brothas can’t believe how the skills have gotten)

Now here I go again, ready to flow again

And if the coast ain't clear, hell yeah, I'm still goin' in

Get it together, or you'll be layin' on a stretcher

I betcha I'm a getcha, the number one heart stresser

Sorry black, that's right, it's a cardiac arrest

Try to triple team the best?

Then where's party at?

Lost to no one, a warrior like Shogun

And when the show's done, stacks and stacks is how the hoes come

I bruise your feelin', confidence is to the ceilin'

If I'm sick, I pick a chick for sexual healin's

I'm unique, a freak like Malik

In the twilights wit more highlights than Dominique

Around my boys is where the gel stops

Ups to the streets, the jeeps, my peeps in the cell blocks

I'm not the best, but I give you stress

To flatter me your strategy gotta be more complex than chess

Stop bluffin' cause you ain't sayin' nothin', G

And start duckin', I'm the A to the fuckin' G

Last LP we got down right

Showed all these corny motherfuckers what hip-hop's supposed to sound like

See A.G. and the brother, show

Quiet is kept, it's best that you step on the low

(Showbiz)

(A.G.)

(Brothas can’t believe how the skills have gotten)

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(A.G.)

(Brothas can’t believe how the skills have gotten)

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(Brothas can’t can't believe believe how, how the skills have gotten)

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(A.G.)

(Brothas can’t believe how the skills have gotten)

Well it's me, meanin' the A to the dash

I'm fast to get the cash, now I'm gone like the past

What's the remedy? Suckers better get they own identity

And to the enemy, you better roll like it'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 'cause it's mine goddamn it

I'm God, quick to pull a fake brotha card

Wrecked Boston, running shit in Portland like Rod

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

Even though 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

Get the Philly and let it rest

(Showbiz)

(A.G.)

(Brothas can’t believe how the skills have gotten)

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(A.G.)

(Brothas can’t believe how the skills have gotten)

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(Brothas can’t can't believe believe how, how the skills have gotten)

(Showbiz)

(A.G.)

(Brothas can’t believe how the skills have gotten)

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(A.G.)

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(A.G.)

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(A.G.)

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(A.G.)