Showbiz & A.G. - Add On (feat. Lord Finesse, D Flow) | Текст песни

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• Showbiz & A.G.
• Add On (feat. Lord Finesse, D Flow)

'1995

Ahhh, this how it goes down
Keep onn, and you don't stop
Ah keep it onn, and you don't stop
Keep onn, and you don't stop
Break it down one time for ya mind
Live and motherfucking direct for '95
It's Showbiz and A.G
And yours truly, the funky one
The Grand Imperial Lord Finesse
As it goes like this like that ya'll, keep it on
It's like that ya'll, keep it on
It's like that, ahhh

It's Lord Finesse, the rhyme vet
Like Biggie, I'm "Ready to Die" but it ain't my fucking time yet
I bring the noise like static, I cause havoc
When I grab the mic I pack a party like traffic
You know my style, I got the hip sound
I should be a construction worker, the way I be tearing shit down
One of the best, you ought to shout it
I bust a nigga ass and won't give two thoughts about it
Word, I hunt you down
I got a million reasons why none of you can fuck around
I slay beginners, sautee contenders
Shit, and be damned if I don't walk away the winner
I kick facts, flip raps over hip tracks
You know what I'm saying? (Yeah, I can dig that)
I'm gifted, my rhyme is wicked
When it comes to knowledge, I got jewels like the Diamond District
I'm the dopest, the baddest, one of the fattest
The nicest, chicken-heads know my status
For those that's waiting to doubt
I'm a play like Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth and "Straighten it Out"

Ayo Show, my man (Add on, add on!)
A.G. my man (Add on, add on!)
Ayo Show my man (Add on, add on!)
D-Flow my man (Add on, add on!)

Check it, I got the herb to bomb your brain
I'm a threat like Saddam Hussein, niggas better know my name
I flow the same in a competition
I break them clowns up something different, buck 'em with the fucking Smith an'
Wesson, MC's never leave my section
Finger on the trigger, I figure I kill that nigga for stepping
I tote the four-fifth, riff and get your jaw shift
Flip phones and mad jewels got me looking gorgeous
Ignore the style and get bucked down, child
With the three-pound pal, BLAOW! How you like me now?
The new improved Flow, you know how I do so
Whatever, a motherfucking terror like Cujo
I'm out to get mine, I want mils, God
Niggas that feel hard, chill or fuck around and get your grill scarred
It's D-Flow, you know my steelo, ceelo will lie you know how we go
Chop him like a kilo and let him die

And I'm a add on like arithmetic
Suckers careers get stopped so just watch who you riffing with
I'm on point with the snakes and fakes
Ain't the one (think I am?), you get hung like drapes
And it's proven, point blank that's the conclusion
Seeing me losing, it's all an illusion
Like the raw ism, I'm a kiss him when I hurt him
Then desert him, cause Show & A.G. shit is sickening
Giving stress to them snakes is a ritual
Nikes and North Flakes, oh yes, they bless the physical
Promote the Glock? No I'm not
I use it as a art, ain't got heart to disrespect hip-hop
Time to breeze, now I'm gone, the Crates is rolling strong
So add on and on

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