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A lot of cats thought the g.p. shit wouldn't make it June luva (smokin) Pop brown hornet (smokin) Rubber to the bands (smokin) Down low...
(g.p. forever more baby) June luva (smokin) Pop brown hornet (smokin) Rubber to the bands (smokin) Down low (smokin)
[june luva] Yo crews I been through with my ginsu I be choppin em, the gap below ain't no stoppin em I be hoppin em, over the fences droppin em Leaping fylin kick on some shaolin shit Get in your stance and defend your square If your skills is not equipped we're sendin that ass up outta here Indeed no question in this profession When g.p.'s in your area it's a blessin Keep em guessin what the hell is they up to Is they finished? nigga we barely begun to Break em down and claim soil in this industry Before I'm gone muthafuckas will remember me Check my pedigree, substantial amount of evidence Body and fools from presidents My residence is stapleton, staten isle B/k/a better known as the shao
[pop the brown hornet] When it be the big dipper I beg to differ Approach like you want it and get put into a back twister Flunkee, little monkey All that garbage you be talkin I know you gots to be a junkie Cause I ain't feelin out one joints you made Everytime you rhyme with the next cat you're gettin slayed Your style's played but you still keep sportin it Put a cork in it, dust it off and auction it Get what you can for it 'fore it's too late You don't want the world to find out the shit's gold plated And outdated, I know you're glad you made it when you made it Cause you style's only gettin faded While I maintain mint condition You got your eyes on the star wishin you could plead half my mission It's all good tho, you're not an all-pro You know you're gettin over with a style's that's so so And while I'm all that you be gettin left back And laughed at like a fat girls ass crack
[rubberbands] Murder I write cause wrote is past tense Leavin featherweight mcs in suspense Cause in my division we dealin with ammunition Lyrically cuttin niggas down like trees You think you got me under pressure cause you whylin You scare me just as much as the haunted house on coney island They used to say you was soft and smilin But all that shit stopped once protect ya neck dropped Hip hop terrorists on the rise The grain click will take the industry by surprise There is no stoppin what is meant, leavin competition bent like Two match-ups in an accident, head on collision Spokin like a geo prism And if you didn't see us comin I suggest you check your vision You're on point at a arrange for correction Like bringin a homeboy hookup outta state, there's no connection
[down low recka] G.p. not the greatest but we famous For committin the crime and tracks that be hittin But niggas can't maintain this, we stain this With the blood from a real nigga who be nameless Check me, got the I'll stee undercover More current, holdin on the green like a rubber Cause I be not a carbon copy or sloppy Watch me, even stop me but never got me Still got niggas on this block, it's hectic It's winter, stapleton go all out and enter My chamber, danger, no turnin back 36 physical hits, I'll mental tricks Come mad thick Nobody know to have to explain this Predict the competition got a style that's brainless So I crush your tower with stories by the hour G.p. who? put the power in the power Rewind, come against the selector The grain remain self-contained in any sector, what
If you representin the east keep (smokin) If you representin the west keep (smokin) If you recognizin the grain be (smokin) Then you representin the best g (smokin) Down low (smokin) Rubber to the bands (smokin) June luva (smokin) Pop brown hornet (smokin)
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