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Artist: A.G.
Album:  Street 12"/Duck Season Vol. II
Song:   Street
Typed by: *

* send corrections to the typist

[Intro: A.G.]
Straight dirty you heard, Diggin'
Team '81 you heard
We get dirty son
Straight dirty son

D-Flow: A.G. puffed the dutchy once
Party Arty: Dirty dirty
A.G.: Chicken's mad cause they fucked me once
Party Arty: Yeah they know niggaz holdin

[Verse 1: A.G.]
Besides she probably put a hole in the scrotum
Off in the lights to the Show that I'm flowin
Leadin to all type of drama unfoldin
Instead I blow smoke like locomotion
Thoughts leave ya brain overloadin
Talk about legends don't leave my name unspoken
It's Show & A.G. for life dog
And I'ma ride for that
I said, the beef don't stop til you get fried with the mack
The weed don't stop til my eyes is black
I said, the heat don't stop cause my rhymes is fat
So take that, you shady son
It's me and Team '81 blazin a crazy one
Hit the baby, three-eighty have crazy fun
I ain't a killer you can make me one *echo*

We represent the S-T-R double E-T
D.I.T.C. Showbiz and A.G.
This goes out to all the dope emcees
From Manhattan and the Staten, Bucktown to front Queens
The Boogie Down Bronx and the Westcoast East
From Puerto Rico to the West-Indies
London U.K. from the Washington
See Team '81 blazin, and the Show & A.G.

[Verse 2: A.G.]
I'm in control when I'm down one, with one shot left
Shouts to gun cocks and son got left
Keep beefin papi, speak to the bottom of the beefin problies
Hit ya papi, not even he can stop me
Never speak to the cops, they creep when it's hot
Bite mine and reach for the top you'll be meetin the glock
And my girl better empty hers
Diggin, Back On the Block like Quincy was
Layin 'em like Cynthy cause
Shouts to Meshawn and the Grand Imperial
It's A dash and y'all trash, it's single material
And if you don't want it than I'm gon' provoke ya
A fenomenon like Geboter my moms will smoke ya
And my lungs is black cause I'm a ganja smoker
If the club ain't packed I'ma stomp the promoter
If niggaz talk shit I'ma bang the competitor
Words ain't accurate I'ma strangle the editor
Then I blow up the studio if the reels is missin
And if my records don't sell I'ma still be spittin *echo*