[Spoken Intro — in the style of KRS-One]
Yeah — listen up, listen up
This one goes out to Quenton Slammed Jr., G-man
From the crates to the corner, word to the block — feel the lesson
Say what? Say who? G-man!
[Verse 1]
Boom-bap heartbeat, crates stacked in the back room,
Boombox on the stoop, vinyl crackle like a classroom.
Coat tags swing on corner coats, breath fog in lamp glow,
Corner cyphers spin truths while the breakbeats blow.
Quenton moved like scripture — knowledge in the cadence,
School of hard knocks, every lesson, no evasions.
Rhymes like ledger lines, balance sheets of the street,
He wrote his name on stoops where every hustler meets.
From mixtapes in duffels to block-school debates,
G-man taught respect, opened minds, closed the gates.
He carried pride in his step, wisdom in his chest,
A boom-box sermonizer putting youth to the test.
[Chorus — Hook]
That time G slammed — the city felt the quake
G-man stood tall, never bend, never break
(Repeat)
[Verse 2 — The Time, the Story]
It happened on 12th & Marshall under a flicker of a sodium light,
Corner smells of fry oil, newsstand headlines, neon night.
Two crews circling like vultures over turf and old rumors,
Hot words turned heavy, metal echoes, clench of shooters.
He stepped into the glare with a cadence, not a choke,
Spoke truth like a preacher, shook the pavement with his throat.
They pushed for the block, wanted taxes, wanted takeovers,
Wanted to flip the corner into corners of foldovers.
G-man slapped the challenge — not with steel but with stance,
Laid the grammar of street law down, gave the hood a second chance.
A rapid exchange — fists, not fatal, a council of palms,
He slammed one cat clean, broke the night's venom with alms.
Siren shadows closed in, cops and whispers on the wire,
Paper ink printed “brawl” but forgot the reason, forgot the fire.
Consequences quick — bruises, headlines, a trial of eyes,
But the block breathed different after the truth cut the lies.
He lost a night of freedom, gained a years-long weight,
But kids watched him teach how to hold your ground and change fate.
[Chorus — Hook]
That time G slammed — the city felt the quake
G-man stood tall, never bend, never break
(Repeat)
[Bridge — Reflection / Payoff]
Years later you see him on the stoop with the youngsters around,
Turntables and lessons, breakbeats healing ground.
He turned a moment of violence into a lesson on the mic,
From slam to sermon, from fight to guiding light.
Now words build bridges where blocks once built walls,
The slam rearranged destinies, answered neighborhood calls.
He teaches kids to box with books, beats, and honor,
Show ’em how to stand up, not tear each other asunder.
That night carved a posture — not revenge, but a stance,
A pivot from survival to giving futures a chance.
[Chorus — Hook]
That time G slammed — the city felt the quake
G-man stood tall, never bend, never break
(Repeat x2)
[Outro — Call & Response]
Say what? Who? — G-man!
How we move? — With knowledge, with
