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And outdated, I know you're glad you made it when you made it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