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Refrain: ("I'm the calm one, but my crew is sorta sick") |
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Yeah, Big |
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L is the first to represent. |
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Verse One: |
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Big L Yo, on the mic is |
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Big L, that brother who kicks flavs, |
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God. Known for sendin' garbage |
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MCs to the graveyard. |
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I pack a gat, not a slingshot; step to this and get an ass-whoopin' like |
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Rodney King got. |
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Or get beat to your death like |
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Cochise, my laws is no peace, fuck the police. |
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MCs get braggin' about cash they collect, but them chumps is like |
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Ray Charles, cuz they ain't seen no money yet. |
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Trash rappers |
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I tax and spark, |
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I be wettin' niggas up like water rides at |
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Action Park. |
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A nigga stuck me, and that ain't funny son, so |
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I got money gun, they wet him and his honey bun. |
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Cuz phony faggots |
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I froze, it's a fact, |
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I flip fast on foes with fabulous fantastic flows. |
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L is the rebel type, |
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I'm rough as a metal pipe, fuck a |
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Benz, cuz |
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I could pull skins on a pedal-bike. |
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Props, I got the most, no |
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MC comes close,coast-to-coast, shows |
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I host, foes |
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I roast, adios, |
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I'm ghost... |
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Refrain Verse |
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Two: D'Shawn |
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Yo, street ? in |
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New York is a place this nigga stands with a machete |
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I'm a crazy |
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Eddie Scissorhands. |
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Born with such a thirst to kill, |
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I can tap 200 quarters from a $50 bill. |
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Cuttin' bitch-niggas down with a hundred pound axe like |
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I was raised by psycho-crazed lumberjacks. |
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So in a battle |
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I be stabbin',choppin' |
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MCs like trees, piece-by-piece buildin' cabins. |
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I'm a maniac magician, abra cadabra, makin' pain appear cuz |
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I'm-a grab arusty chain to make a noose to choke your ass so hard, you're spittin' fuckin' |
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Adam's Apple juice. |
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So come check the magic show by |
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Deshawn, and witness the way |
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I put you to death with a magic wand. |
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Turnin' your home to a casket, turn your wife into a widow and your son into a bastard. |
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Cuz I love to keep |
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MCs sufferin', beggin' for big, heavy bags of |
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Bufferin. |
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Baseball battin' 'em, splattin' 'em, so many homicide records, my cases went platinum. |
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D'Shawn is nice; known for givin' out head cracks without touchin' dice. |
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Just pain and punishment from the |
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Boogie Down |
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Bronxter... |
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D'Shawn the maniac street mobster. |
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Refrain Verse |
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Three: Lord |
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Finesse It's the |
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F-I-N-E-double- |
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S-E, don't play or stress me |
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Cause that shit don't impress me |
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I make papes off the shit |
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I create, and then dictate |
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So get your motherfuckin shit straight |
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I got skills and |
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I'm hard to kill, |
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So y'all bitch-ass rappes better chill and just guard your grill |
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You grab a mic and always get hype |
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Talkin bout fuckin niggaz up |
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When you can bearly beat your dick right |
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So stop ridin my dilznick cause |
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I can still kick the ill shit on the motherfuckin real tip |
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Hit like Foreman when |
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I'm brawlin |
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Those who think |
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I'm fallin, |
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I'll play your monkey-ass like a organ |
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I got crazy niggas in the city noid |
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Got mad bitches, but it's not cause |
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I'm a motherfuckin pretty-boy |
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I'm ruthless, |
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I'm not on that goody-goody tip |
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That shit played out with that |
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Beat Street/ |
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Electric Boogie shit |
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I'll stomp any rapper that you ??? if they ass is weak, they better chill and grab a seat |
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And go 'head with they master plan |
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Stevie Wonder probably see me 'fore half you rappers can |
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You can't hang and you're fallin fast |
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You rappers that's trash better dash and start haulin ass |
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Cuz I'm out to rag shit |
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Fuck up a show, collect my dough and step off with a bad bitch |
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Spectators always have the best time |
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When they come to a show and hear a funky |
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Lord Finesse rhyme |
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I'm out to get bigger, lounge and make rich figures |
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You'll never catch |
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Finesse associating with bitch niggaz |
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I work overtime when it's time to go for mine |
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Crab-ass rappers, don't even front cuz ya'll know the time |
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So it's time for me to step |
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Peace to Showbiz and |
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AG and I'm off to the left |
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Refrain Verse |
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Four: AG Check-check-check it. |
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A to the G is gonna wreck it. |
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On stage, on my record, so nigga don't forget it. |
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I'm the man. |
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The one-man-band is on my right hand. (His name is Show nitwit, so get wit the program) |
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I get a hit from my buddha blessed. |
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Turn my hat to the back, now let's see who's the best. |
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I like my pockets fat, never ever flat. |
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Niggas wanna jack, my .45 ain't havin' that. |
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Hoes get no dough, so why try? |
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Think it's gonna be a hit 'n' run? |
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Wrong, it's a drive-by. |
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Niggas catchin' tantrums,because your girl's never safe around the |
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Midnight Phantom. |
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They predicted |
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I'm-a fall; they must be down with |
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Michael Jackson cuz that shit is |
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Off The Wall. |
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You don't believe me, ask that brother |
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Show: snatchin' hotties, grabbin' hotties, lettin' mothafuckers know. |
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You come wrong if you don't come strong... |
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YOU BETTER |
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CATCH WREC |
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K! Mothafucker, |
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I made the song. |
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Styles will vary, they won't carry over. |
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Don't fuck with no |
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Devil, I'd rather marry |
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Oprah. Yeah, you got it, |
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I'm pro-black, and my skills are so phat, |
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I pay my dues, |
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I don't owe jack. |
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You bite my style, |
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I can spot it. |
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Tryin' real hard to get it, you can forget it, because you don't got it. |
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And my skills are excellent. |
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Diggin' in the |
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Crates and it's time to |
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Represent! |
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Refrain |
