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And outdated, I know you're glad you made it when you made it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

Writer : ROBERT BRIGGS, JAMES WILSON, ISAAC BOOKER, JAVAHN BARRY
Copyright : Lyrics © BUG MUSIC