Crowd Control

Story Behind The Song

The purpose of the song is to commemorate the artist verbally through artistry itself and creativity with the purpose of pleasing an audience. Hence, Crowd Control.

Song Description

Verses one and two are insights into the life and character of the pseudonym or artist stage name Geno-G as if they were two different people. While verse one concentrates primarily on his origin including his birthdate, verse two is derived more of his

Song Length 3:50 Genre Rap - Hip Hop, Rap - West Coast
Tempo Medium Fast (131 - 150) Lead Vocal Male Vocal
Mood Delighted, In High Spirits Subject General, General
Similar Artists Eminem, Jay-Z Language English
Era 2000 and later

Lyrics

Verse-1
It's just an introduction prompting me to speak. Who is he to speak, finessing the beat? Never seen before yet he greets the whole world cordially. Known to you all as Geno, we know was born August 2nd, natural conception. So I guess thats the first impression. Named after pop makes Jr. 2nd. The first came last like reintroduction. I wonder what moved him? Must have been precutions. The music was soothing it pushed his buttons. He'd lose his breath and resume to busting. Can't get a block writing a song. He has his own out north off Cherbourg Road. He did it for kicks but only moved zips. Never sold a pound he bounced to the ounces.

HOOK
It's all crowd control.
So put all the h*** in the front row.
Freestyle was sickening.
Only paper cuz touched was green, he's so gifted.
(Repeat)

Verse-2
He spit splendid, tremendous flow. The punch lines kick like bricks of coke. He's dope blow for blow. That's not soda it's boiling. Bubble like double up, loved his performance. The show was explosive, encore was enormous, people on top of seats just to see him once more, for pictures and Polaroids the boy so important. They love it when he speaks, there's a need to record it. Put him in the booth he do his thing when he breathe. He speaks directly to the customer; purchase a CD, hit the weed, don't trip, stack chips, mack a bitch in a fit, dipping off the lot in some clean shit. Deep dish twenty inches with him your deck might get you brownie points not quite respect. Yeah! But let me catch my wind. While you check yourself I'll reintroduce him.

HOOK 2x

Supreme hustle, write money to a snare, customers pay a fare, I guess I charge for air. Address the public like I'm running for mayor to beats that sweep you off your feet like Fred Estare. I'm out of sight like I'm right in the glare, bust hard a hell and strut like my toes ain't there. Your toes ain't broke yet; get back on your grind. I rhyme for mine, dubs and dimes. I take fives too, pints of Grey Goose to the neck, selling 'em four minutes and some seconds. While directing traffic so savage like, I'm on point just like trick dice. It's nothing to a boss rolling the weed, hollering at brauds, holding on the steering wheel with his knees. I do it moving to the next light, next episode to the corner store for one more blunt to roll.

HOOK 2x

Lyrics E. Thrower II Producer Fa Doe Inc.
Publisher ASCAP Performance Geno-G
Label G Class Inc. (indie)

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