[Big L]nYea yeah, Flamboyant Entertainment (no doubt)nnYo, y'all fellas like to stress them chicksnImpress them chicks, spend money to dress them chicksnI sex them chicks and send them homenCorleone is known to be stonednWhen I bone, I'm rubbered up in case that shit full blownnThe other night around 8P.M.nPockets crazy slim, jumped out the gray BMnWent to the ATM, took a thou' outnthen later on I had to wild outnIn the club, knock some coward and his pal outnThen afterwards went to the restroom, pissed Cristal outnNow I'm thinkin - which chick number I could dial outnCause it's L, the Harlem pimp baby, for realnI got more dimes than that Sprint ladynAnd that's ill, playa haters be givin me harsh looksnbut I'm tryin to sell records like Garth BrooksnSo eff 'em all, when it's cold I throw the skelly onnIllegal chips keep my celly onnMega-ice is what I'm heavy onnIf it ain't Cristal boo, I guess it's PerignonnIf the na-na's too tight, I throw some jelly onnYo try to tax and watch the nine mill burstnI've been off the scene over three yearsnand cats is still thirst - to hear Big L drop an ill versenSo all you unsigned cats that want to battle;nget a deal first - I sport the bulletproof, fitted hatnThat attitude - you better get rid of thatnWherever you floss is where you gon' get it atnWhat? I stay strapped, I go to sleep with my steelnMakin figures while you broke cats keepin it realnL is rap's most livest catnI'm gettin stacks while you askin people,nDo you want fries with that?nI rob fags in the staircase, no mask, bare-facednThe one police wouldn't dare chasenKeep my gear laced - do I walk around without papes? No way palnWord up - my money longer than the OJ trialnnChorus: Miss JonesnHarlem world keep holdin it down, for Big LnNigga long overdue - niggaz wanna know,ndo you still got it got it? (It's so amazin'!)nYeah yeah yeah.. Harlem world keep holdin it down, for Big LnNigga long overdue - niggaz wanna know,ndo you still got it got it? (It's so amazin'!)nn[Stan Spit]nStan Spit, yo, uhnYo what the hell y'all can tell Spit? Not shitnI did a flick and bounced on L's shitnWell shit, expect me to go platinumnThat's the only reason why I'm rappinnAnd since L passed, niggaz expect me to make it happennwith no release date, I sell in each statenI'm the type to drive to Philly, for a cheesesteaknSo what I'm a Harlem king, doin my thingnMy name ring - chains and dames what the fame bringnAfter platinum it's the same thingnAnd niggaz'll never learnntil I pull the steel and make they lover burnnYou don't get another turn, game's overnHere's my flamethrowernRearrange your Rover, Harlem soldiernWait til I get older - and we won't stopnI thought Mase told yanNigga Stan he do what he gottanAnd these haters can't do me nadanBe in Nevada, with a lot of enchiladannChorusnn[A.G.]nYo, yo move the fuck, A bring the heat, when I touch tracksnThese niggaz beef then wanna chill? Fuck thatnThese rap niggaz with the mills, we deduct thatnI asked all my ghetto cats, where my love atnNow where the brews, and the drugs at?nCorrupt cats kept slug hatsnAsked the feds where the bugs atnPuff with the dread, cause I puff blacknHigh, til I die, and you can trust thatnAll I wanna know - is the club packed?nI see the haters sweatin shorty, but I dug thatnShe put my nut sack, back where her lungs at - little hoenAnd them niggaz who owe, give up thatnHuh, it's me and Corle', like Eddie and OTnGo 'head and provoke menHeard you rap, wanna rhyme? Better be dope BnStill Diggin, still livin, still givinny'all the ill written, still fuckin like Bill ClintonnnChorus 2Xnn[A.G.] Big L..