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    DJ Skribble / Lyrics

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    "Next Level" Lyrics

    DJ Skribble feat. Show And AG

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    Duration:00:01:15
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    Lyrics

    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

    Brothers 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 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

    Brothers can't believe how the skills have gotten

    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

    Brothers can't believe how the skills have gotten
    This song was submitted on November 28th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Rodney Lemay, Andre Maurice Barnes, John L. Montgomery.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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