A+ Enter Hempstead Lyrics

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