A-Plus - Beasts from the East lyrics

[Pre-Intro] Weather Man: The forecast: showers heavy at times with occasional thunderstorms today and a high of 89 degrees... Mr. Cheeks: The cops said to me, yo kid (yo kid yo kid yo kid) Weather Man: Partial clearing... Mr. Cheeks: DAMN! Kghhh! Weather Man: And a low of 74 (74, 74, 74, 74) [Intro with music, overlapping voices] Mr. Cheeks: (Basically, kid) Word, Ren zone, wanna hit (Queens!) This microphone I got some of this You know how many member LB Tran Get motherf**in' biz Along (gone?) your child We got the funk out the spot Canibus and A Plus from far sized block Yo yo yo yo Big Dog like to dance [Verse 1: Mr. Cheeks] Yo, we come through like bulls 'cause n***as takin' two pulls and pa** n***a, watch your back once you talk out your a** I pack a .380 in my stash for protection Family to raise, the world is acting crazed I never thought I'd make it, it was hectic when I scrambled On point like a knife I'm takin' life as a gamble And living in the rotten apple, yo where every core is rotten All my n***as rest in peace ya see you gone but not forgotten Now my main wifey, deaded shady chicks Official Lost Boyz since the year of '86 And f** these crooked n***as I could k** em with the pa**ion At times I feel like blasting in Jamaican Queens fashion You think you can f** around, but kid you're just thinking It's over when I'm sober, imagine when I'm drinking Without blinking man, I'll tear your crew like pages I'll rip you from the backyards, parks and on stages [Verse 2: A+] A plus the lyrically superb one, spittin rhymes Off the top of the tongue to burn ya ear drums Rockin' sh**, make the opposite team call a time out Knocking n***as three times my size out The crowd loves me, so when I ain't around they ask for me I buckle up and catch wreck like a crash dummy For the fast money, I get up in that a** money The fact you tryna test me kinda bugs me I leave crews fed up, like handicap n***as tryna get up Emcees get wet up with lyrical gun pellets I blow up the spot when it's time to rock I speak out my voice box and peak out at a hundred watts Who wanna cipher, I get dumb Word to my mother, the father, the holy ghost and Rev. Run When it's all said and done, I end the service Concocting the type of verses that average MCs seem to worship [Verse 3: Redman] My style is Milk of Magnesia, clutch the 5-speed and bust The more the merrier, secure the area My La Familia is ultimate superior We don't jack cars, we jack for aircraft carriers I bounce like trampolines when I be blowing the fiends to pieces Hymn em like sewing machines and Jesus When the shadows of the barrel pointing out my boy Camaro I get punished like Pharaoh for splittin' You're better off singing Christmas carols for Christmas Because I'm on point like bow and arrow equipment The president of chicken head conventions I give you a deluxe Ku Klux lynchin' I got a headache from the stress, success not wearing a vest 5-11 for being dirty and court's at 9:30 Yo, Mr.Cheeks, I made this b**h call police She tried swallowing a nine piece Forgot the warrantee on false teeth I return like Makaveli on 18 inch Pirelli's Assault and battery like my palms is Eveready Sharp as machete's, matter of fact I slap for cognac [Verse 4: Canibus] Canibus brings the sickest drama fierce enough to pierce the thickest armor I smack b**hes who try to s** dick through a condom Playing with the mic is something I won't do My only concern when I approach you, is to roast you I smoke you and whoever you standing close to And make every man in your crew deny that he knows you Defeating, n***as like Seagal Steven Putting MCs in positions to prevent 'em from breathing I'll make you question any and everything you've ever believed in By peeping your deepest secrets like psychic readers What's the matter with y'all, I splatter y'all Against the motherf**ing wall with these raw lyrics I catapult None of y'all got the balls big enough to battle I go On & On like Erykah Badu A hundred times nicer than the best is Twice as arrogant as KRS is, who wanna test this? f** y'all, you don't impress me and no one can test me An MC so ill, I got AIDS scared to catch me All that sh** you popping will stop, when I put you in a headlock And apply pressure until I crush your motherf**ing noggin I grab mics and push n***as to the left So fast their hearts end up on the right side of their chests My hypothesis, is that nobody can see this Lyrical genius, I got it sown like a seamstress But if you want to battle, I'm down If you got nine lives, I'll take eight of them off your hands right now Step up and get your neck cut from ear to ear If you survive, then you can cover your scar with a beard I'm the illest from Queens to the new Jerusalem briddicks Anyone who ain't feeling my shidick can s** my didick You need to quit it, if you ain't spitting More than 50 bars per minute cause you ain't in lyrical fitness Kicking boring raps with metaphors that's wack All of y'all motherf**ers need NordicTrack To get ya weight up, f**ing with Canibus you get ate up Get beat down and sprayed up, just for bringing my name up Been rocking longer than n***as twice my age Back in the days before Bob Marley was rocking a fade Before Honest Abe signed the paper that freed slaves Before Neanderthals was drawing on walls in caves I existed, in the garden of Eden getting lifted Sticking dick to Eve before she was Adam's mistress Before Christ created Christmas I been in lyrical fitness The Canibus is spitting till he's spitless 50 bars of total sickness, you won't forget this I'm putting every wack Emcee alive on my sh** list Verbally vicious, telekinetically gifted Took you a minute, to exhibit that I'm sick wit it Now you tell me who you think is damaging sh** Going once, going twice Sold to that n***a name Canibus Me and Mr.Cheeks, A+, and Funk Doctor Hopping out the Hue helicopter to suey chop ya [Outro] Group Home and Def Squad Nine Seven n***a!