Next Level

[Verse 1: A.G.] All I see is blinking lights, track boards, and fat mics 950s, SP12s, MP60s Shit is thumping, ear drums pumping 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 niggas yeah they still get the boot The north flakes cause I be flowing in all states Show kept digging and digging 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 Sell-out's got no worth I think they better go soul search [Hook] Brothers can’t believe how the skills have gotten Brothers can’t believe how the skills have gotten [Verse 2: A.G.] Now here I go again, ready to flow again And if the coast ain't clear, hell yeah, I'm still going in Get it together or you'll be laying 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 feelings, confidence is to the ceiling If I'm sick, I pick a chick for sexual healing I'm unique, a freak like Malik In the twilights with more highlights than Dominique Around my boys is where the jel stops Up 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 bluffing cause you ain't saying nothing, G And start ducking I'm the A to the fucking 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 as kept it's best that you step on the low [Hook x2] [Verse 3: A.G.] Well it's me meaning 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 Taking beats from my LP for sure ain't healthy Patterson Projects is where I rest But I claim the whole planet cos it's mine goddamn it I'm God, quick to pull a fake brother 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 [Hook x3]