Intro:

Hey what's up fam? (what's goin' down?) Word to this GP shit right here

nawmean? (1-2) Turn my mic up. We're comin' through until the next

millenium. (word born no doubt) Time to hit 'em with that shit.



Down Low Reka:

Take flight thieves in the night hold ground 

Swipe all belongings without making a sound

It's the Low Down crystal clear with these vocals 

My international skills train the locals

World wide, what make you think that you can hide from the darkside

Fuck runnin' from the sun it's a no win situation goin' up against

gladiation

Now knowin' what you're facin'



Junelover:

Question what was you representin' back in the days it the grain over fades



(I don't know) Runnin' through my projects pickin' fresh cotton

Silly of you to think that GP would be forgotten

You spoiled rotten you with the man is allowed you with temp you plotted

Ways to make cream and took the profits elsewhere money grip 

As far as I'm concerned your ass best not slip

Or get hit and injected with the truth to your vein

And a sticker on your face that reads "GP the grain"

You wonder where this shit in my from recognition (what what what what

what)

You been out for years and ain't a motherfucker mention

Where that shit came from instead you play dumb

Stapleton invented you you ain't know son?

A hundred grand for the head of thee imposter

Description of his face hangin' on the roster

Bring out the lie detector cause we beez the truth injector

You better watch what you say in my Beretta

Will be used for the first time straight out the box

They dealt it to the Hudson by the Stapleton docks

Poppy hit me with that shit one time (no doubt)

and let these niggas know



Hook:

GP forever shine as we illuminate and capture your state of mind

It's like we try to tell you time after time



You fuckin' with the raw



Pop The Brown Hornet:

The floor should of been empty because you against me 

Is like a grown man against a baby

No way no how could you fuck with this

Before I'm done with you you'll be on my shit list

Dead and stinkin' for even thinkin'

You can pull off an upset please you don't pose near threat

You're a stink bomb I'm comin' Stapleton style

To blow up your whole profile

My shiggy shiggy Shaolin style is so rugged

MC's that like our identity try to dub it

It can't be duplicated the way I situate it

It's too complicated I get highly modivated

It comes to battlin' MCs they start thinkin'

I wonder the fuck Pop with the blood clot drinkin'

I hope it wasn't gas cause I'm about to get up in that ass

You fucked with me first but I should of been the last

Brother word to mother keep them feelings hurt

Dealing with the lyrical expert

Who don't give a hoot I'll be the first to shoot

Deadly lyrics ironically raisin' dead spirits



Rubbabandz:

GP's comin' through call it a hostiel take over

You on the hunt for our LP like Sean Connery on The Hunt For Red October

Candy rappers dependin' on the power of a four leaf clover

President and plus part owner

Rubbabands got more fans than Barcelona

You gettin' more record sales than me 

Chances are slim like tryin' to get a job on Wall Street with a diploma

High school graduate just wasn't me 

So '93 be the year I sign up for my G.E.D.

Takin' trades so I have something to fall back on

So on a job interview this looks good

Just in case our records don't sell, knock on wood

My fault but that's just a wild and crazy thought

Cause you know we goin' gold from like a month from when we drop

Cause GP the grain is just so so hot 

To def get left in the dust we bust 

Real hip hop guarenteed platinum and plus



Hook