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

BKA 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And outdated, I know you're glad you made it when you made it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