RIP Harlem’s finest
Yo, on the mic is Big L, that brother who kicks flavs, God.
Known for sendin’ garbage MCs to the graveyard.
I pack a gat, not a slingshot;
Step to this and get an ass-whoopin’ like Rodney King got.
Or get beat to your death like Cochise,
My laws is no peace, fuck the police.
MCs get braggin’ about cash they collect,
But them chumps is like Ray Charles,
Cos they ain’t seen no money yet.
Trash rappers I tax and spark,
I be wettin’ niggas up like water rides at Action Park.
A nigga stuck me, and that ain’t funny son,
So I got money gun, they wet him and his honey bun.
Cuz phony faggots I froze, it’s a fact,
I flip fast on foes with fabulous fantastic flows.
L is the rebel type, I’m rough as a metal pipe,
Fuck a Benz, cuz I could pull skins on a pedal-bike.
Props, I got the most, no MC comes close,coast-to-coast,
Shows I host, foes I roast, adios, I’m ghost…