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-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 cuz he’s about to blow up   Hit ‘em with some flavors, let ‘em know what you about      [A+]   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 (4X)      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 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      I’ma show you how the east coast rock (2X)      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      (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)      [A+]   Here comes the juvenile child wit 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   Cuz 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 (Gunshot)      Andre get your ass in this house