G.p. Lyrics

[Intro: Buddha Monk]
Yo, this is the General Monk General
General Monk Monk, most of ya'll cats out there
Know me as Buddha Monk, but yo
I just spotted this one right here for my nigga Poll'
And I call the best of the best
To get up on these tracks, my nigga from the A-Team
He ran bitches, Polladon

[Chorus x2: Polladon]
Who be Pacino of this mic shit, G.P.
Who Verbal Bolo of this mic shit, G.P.
Who with thoughts that slaughter, devour
Any competitor that test the Polladon sector, G.P.
Who be Pacino of this mic shit, G.P.
Who Verbal Bolo of this mic shit, G.P.
Who with thoughts that slaughter, devour
Any competitor that test the BPM sector, G.P.

I'm an angry nigga, and hysterical like rape victims
On some one-shit, two-shit, three strikes, I rip 'em
Like they ain't got nothing to do with it, but dog had to get 'em
That's the dash out motto, where ya stand is where I split 'em
Gotta stay on the creek, cause that man might be thinking
Never underestimate, he could catch you while you blinking
Always have a plan, cause a real dog could bite any hand
Before I stay low pro and rest E.P. and brand
Give 'em to me if they need it, trust and first degree it
Nobody around, nobody to ask 'did you see it'
Dumb this block, to bloody water, slaughter
Thought ya, pipe to bring dick to your baby daughter


I attack like pitbull, lock, spit like glock
Masked man, one bullet running in your spot
My mind wreaks of torture, fatal one, last on slaughter
Let a nigga bastard what I brought ya
My style is stink like power weed, muscle dough
Like pierce my two-two calibur, insides blow
Get more lethal than chronic bionic, rap mode
Various speeds like I was stunting, my fly
Back to twelve, living hell, remove my sight
I be the illest nigga brail
Sixteen bars, making your squad bail
No one, I mean no one, ever survives to touch the third rail
Pitch black, camp in your hoody, red mask
One shot still repping flesh through your ass


It's too many cats, eating around me
You all grow well, smiles on G.P.
I'm the pain, shelterless from the rain
Cock back and roll with the direct aim
I blow backs, I break like the glass
Dash donna, like walking through a line of horror smacks
I shut gap, heat stroke 'em to collapse
Tell 'em now, it's all over, that's a wrap
Rhyming infection, verbal abused with injection
G.P. 'em fam dammit, who be your protection
Hold you foil, skills beserk to your loyal
Heat temperature rise, cook his ass to a boil
Seeing me, is like pitch black with sunglasses
You bumped into ivy, son, rashes

[Interlude: Buddha Monk]
That's right, daddy, G.P. is the greatest... going down
This the crazy muthaf**king shit, going down
G.P., Buddha Monk, Brooklyn Zu, nigga
And we do this shit all day...


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