Tonart: F minor•
Verse 1
Fm
A+, you know what I'm sayin
You wanna send some shout-
outs to your peoples?
[A+] Yeah I'd lie to give a shout-
Verse 2
Fm
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,
Cm
Russel Simmons, my moms
Fm
Kedar Entertainment, the Smith brothers,
my whole label
And everybody out
there supportin east coast
Verse 3
Fm
Alright, well this is A+
Now you should get his autograph sweetheart
cuz he's about to blow up
Hit 'em with some flavors,
let 'em know what you about
Verse 4
Fm
[A+]
Yes yes, check it out
Know what I'm sayin? A+
Verse 5
Fm
I'ma show you how the east coast rock
A+, no doubt he'll turn the
party out [x4]
Verse 6
Confession We keep it representin our section
Fm
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 wit the dynamite
And blow your crew away just like McVey
I get you, and hit you wit 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&R stop teasin
Before we flip the script like a female
pit when it's matin season
Verse 7
Fm
I'ma show you how the east coast rock
[x2]
Verse 8
Fm
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
cuz 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
wit 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
Verse 9
Fm
(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
Bbm
It won't work, and they say for the police,
Fm
it will be a nightmare)
Cm
[A+] Here comes the juvenile child
Verse 10
Lyrically cock back and load BEAKOW
Mad but cats are jumpin,
Cm
Fm
I try to stay humble
The snakes body gates of
Cm
Fm
Hell want me to fumble
Cm
I use my third eye G to see
Cuz real little brothers like
Cm
Fm
us come clean
Cm
The streets envy, yeah he was frontin
Fm
like you wanted somethin
Cm
But through his shirt my third eye
Fm
saw his heart pumpin
Cm
We be the realness for those
Fm
that can't feel this
Your joint is weak,
Cm
Fm
so take a seat while shorty speaks
Cm
Fm
I gets deep, speak to the streets
Big up to all my peeps in
Cm
Fm
the back seat of badges
Cm
Fm
Peace to the hardcore juvenile crew
Cm
Fm
Always schemin on the blunts and brew
Try to maintain hold your troop
Cm
Fm
till we get the loot
And next time think about your life
before you [Gunshot]
Andre get your ass in this house
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TunerE A D G B E
Akkorde & SongtexteFm Cm Bbm
Fm
Cm
Bbm
Capo: 1
Transponieren: 0
0
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