Next Level

[Intro]
Showbiz! A.G.!
Showbiz! A.G.!
Showbiz! A.G.!

[Verse 1: A.G.]
All I see is blinkin' lights, track boards and phat mics
950's, SP12's, MP60's
Shit is thumpin', eardrums 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 niggas, 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, nigga, roll that dime
And I'm the only livin' matter that controls my mind
Peace to every single rapper on this whole Earth
Sellouts got no worth, I think they better go soul search

[Hook x2]
Showbiz! A.G.!
(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, oh, yeah, I'm still goin' in
Get it together or you'll be layin' on a stretcher
I betcha I'mma 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 healings
I'm unique, a freak like Malik
In the twilights with more highlights than Dominique
Around my boys is where the jel' 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 as kept, it's best that you step on the low!

[Hook]
Showbiz! A.G.!
(Brothers can’t believe how the skills have gotten)
Showbiz! A.G.!
(Brothers can’t believe how the skills have gotten)
Showbiz!
(Brothers can’t-can't believe how-how the skills have gotten)
Showbiz! A.G.!
(Brothers can’t believe how the skills have gotten)

[Verse 3: A.G.]
Well, it's me, meanin' the A-to-the-dash
I'm fast to get the cash, now I'm goin' 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 brother card
Wrecked Boston, runnin' 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
Hit the Philly and let it rest

[Hook]
Showbiz! A.G.!
(Brothers can’t believe how the skills have gotten)
Showbiz! A.G.!
(Brothers can’t believe how the skills have gotten)
Showbiz!
(Brothers can’t-can't believe how-how the skills have gotten)
Showbiz! A.G.!
(Brothers can’t believe how the skills have gotten)
Showbiz! A.G.!
Showbiz! A.G.!
Showbiz! A.G.!
Showbiz! A.G.!