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[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 Letras de cancioneswhat) 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] From Letras Mania