A+ - Next Level (Intro)/Enter HempsteadLyrics

A+, you know what I'm sayin' You wanna send some shout-outs to your peoples? Yeah I'd lie to give a shout-out to Parkside Whole Strong Island, the east coast, Bronx, Queens, Manhattan Lindenplace, all my peoples on Parkside militia keepin' it real My man crazy Sam, Russel Simmons, my moms Kedar Entertainment, the Smith brothers, my whole label And everybody out there supportin' east coast Alright, well this is A+ Now you should get his autograph sweetheart 'cause he's about to blow up Hit 'em with some flavors, let 'em know what you about Yes yes, check it out Know what I'm sayin' A+ I'ma show you how the east coast rock A+, no doubt he'll turn the party out A+, no doubt he'll turn the party out A+, no doubt he'll turn the party out A+, no doubt he'll turn the party out Confession We keep it representin' our section So guys hit the shorty for the east coast resurrection Yeah, destruction of the wack MC We gone get back on that tip like it used to be Now who remember when MC's couldn't touch the mic If they skills wasn't tight then they best took flight Prepare for combat, wield the contract, let the labels front I be like Wu-Tang and put the joint from out the trunk My situation is mad tight So corny MC's take a hike Before I ignite with the dynamite And blow your crew away just like McVey I get you, and hit you with the Parkside militia I gets iller, than any disease that's known to man Destroy the race of rappers like a Nazi plan Damn, so A and R stop teasin' Before we flip the script like a female pit when it's matin' season I'ma show you how the east coast rock I'ma show you how the east coast rock OK now peep the situation My manifestation is to rock the whole creation Despite all the negativity, the publicity It really ain't that hard god it's simplicity So I'ma maintain and let it rain let it rain And just like the MethTical I can bring the pain I had somethin' to say so high class pulls the track out I'm out to blow the spot like the seventy-seven blackout Seen rappers come and go 'cause they had no flow And if you ask 'em who was who or her I bet you they don't even know Now who's that wack MC with all that mouth I'll rip him in New York and work my way down south I be the true I live it, non-fiction never slippin' MC's they gone learn if it take a verbal ass-whippin' My tolerance is gettin' short So rappers that can't walk the walk grab your tape and escape from New York (A typical night on the streets of Hempstead Drinking, drugs, gambling, just hanging out Not the place for kids, But this is where the kids are into the early morning hours The idea of having a curfew in Hempstead is just that at this time An idea, but the people here on Terrance Avenue say if enacted It won't work, and they say for the police, it will be a nightmare) Here comes the juvenile child with the Luger style Lyrically cock back and load beakow! Mad but cats are jumpin', I try to stay humble The snakes body gates of Hell want me to fumble I use my third eye G to see the unseen 'cause real little brothers like us come clean The streets envy, yeah he was frontin like you wanted somethin' But through his shirt my third eye saw his heart pumpin' We be the realness for those that can't feel this Your joint is weak, so take a seat while shorty speaks I gets deep, speak to the streets Big up to all my peeps in the back seat of badges Peace to the hardcore juvenile crew Always schemin on the blunts and brew Try to maintain hold your troop till we get the loot And next time think about your life before you Andre get your ass in this house