Word, check it out, check it outnCheck it out, bust itnnM.C.'s get taught a lesson when the mic is in my po-sessionnRap's my pro-fession, L is nice. No questionnIt's a fact I stay geared it shouldn't be weirdnthat I'm feared, cuz my raps are roughed than a nappy beardnI cook rappers like a chefnI'm +Def+ like +Jeff+, right to leftnMy raps are badder than mornin breathnFor niggaz deaths I'm the number one suspectncuz I catch much wreck, 'specially when I'm upsetnSuckers I'm a stick of they startnBreakin 'em up and then takin they heartnYou better believe that Big L is the man that be rippin the microphonesnapartnI hold a 40 right because I'm the naughty typenWhen I strike the mic, niggaz be like, Shorty hype!nI'm smoother than velvet, my lyrics is well writ'nYou sayin L's dis and L's dat, get off L dicknRhymes I create and knock out ya gold toothnBattlin me's like fightin a gorilla in a phone boothnI wreck mics and drop the cool speechesnNowadays rappers think they motherfuckin school teachersn1-2, 1-2, Rappers I run throughnFuck Karate, I practice Gun-FunThe Big L is an assassinatornI grab the mag and leave a fag leakin like ActivatornI'm the nigga that you never even thought of beatinnBlack, white, or Puerto RicannI'm could slaughter each an'nevery crab M.C. that runs up when the battle comes upnGimme two thumbs upnPeace