Audition Songtext

von Big L

Ayyo, I got the gift of gab
To lift and grab, the mic
And recite hype rhymes
That'll rip and rag, and drag
A fag MC, who likes to nag a lot
And brag a lot, talkin' about the lyrics that he have are hot
Step to this and get lit like a candle troop
Rhymes I up, MCs I cook up
Like Campbell's Soup
I throw rhymes like a quarterback
Front and you'll get bust and dust and crushed
Bum rushed and all of that
Rhymes never sound whack
Cause I got 'em down pat
Your rulin' time is over
So gimme your crown jack
I get hype fast
And MCs might last
A minute with me
Because their rhymes are light as
A feather
And mines are heavy like a big brick
Rappers catch a fit quick
When I start to kick shit
And I record my battles on a camcorder
So I can sit back and watch me manslaughter
MCs that tried to get wit' me hops
That's why they all got tooken out like a Bensi box
The crown is still mine cause I kick ill rhymes
A lotta rappers talk that murder shit and couldn't kill time
Or beat eggs or whip cream
I'm smoother than Vaseline
And I'm a stone cold rappin' fiend
A lot of new jacks are comin' out, but that's cool
Cause I'm the principal of the new school

Yeah, aight, check it out
I control the microphone like a robot
My lyrics are so hot, props I got a whole lot
Cause wit' a pen and some paper this man makes
Rhymes that're so damn great, with flavor like pancakes
I'm kickin' rhymes like a game of kickball
I'm rough like a brick wall, MCs take a big fall
For tryin' to get with this, I'm too swift with this
A microphone murderer full with magnificence
A def rapper and also a swell one
In a battle I cook MCs well done
My hits are consecutive
I'm a lyrical executive
Bite my rhymes and I won't let you live
So to be safe on the microphone homes
Recite your own poems or get your dome flown
Or put in a boot camp, L is the new champ
I'm not the type to go out like a food stamp
I'm throwin' rhymes like a pitcher throws a curve ball
And I'm a serve all punks that try to brawl
So stop sleepin' on me, don't even doze hops
Or I'm a heat you up and eat you up like Stove Top
Stuffin', I'm bum rushin', shorts I'm takin' none
My rhymes weigh a ton, I'm not fakin' son
You're the one who's fakin', tryin' to be a duplicate
Can't kick stupid shit, tell you the truth, you should quit
Rappin', start snappin', cause all you is a joke
Battle L and get smoked
Yo I overthrow ya and have ya screamin' like a rollercoaster
Guzzle you down like a small cup o' Coca-Cola
I'm goin' through MCs like a ransack
Stand back, as I cruise smooth like a Am-Trak
Your rhymes are rusty g, you can't fuck with me
That's why you're hidin' in protective custody
L's not the one and I keep MCs runnin'
I hurt 'em like bunions, make 'em cry like onions
I'm a lyrical fighter and I'm brighter than Einstein

Try to bite my lines and you'll get a size nine

Foot put in your ass for bein' a crook

Hit with a vital and get your title took

Yeah, I'm a pass it to my man

Yo I'm the microphone murderer
And I'm known for bustin' mad caps
I was in rag tracks with rhymes that backslap
'Causin' a nightmare, I don't fight fair
Niggas playin' hard rock, hopin' they might scare
The B-I-G-L but I'm not to be fucked wit'
You're tryin' to take your idol's title?
You on some bugged shit
I keep the women fiendin' and screamin' for my smooth shit
My rhymes are mad thick and yours is thin as a pool stick
Fuck it, bust it, I like it rough and rugged
Your style is wick whack and played out like nugget
Bracelets, face this, you can't erase this, escape this
Break this, take this, cause I bake this
I get so loose on beats that I produce
Niggas be frontin' crazy hard and got no juice
They softer than paper plates, the lyrics I make is great
A few sheets of loose leaf and a Erasermate
Is all I need to write rhymes that are extra fly
Mics I wreck and fry, rappers I petrify
Pack a fo' fif' with eight shots
With one you get popped
And now you're locked in a box, dead, with no props
I'm not jokin', there's no time for snappin'
Niggas that be yappin', I'm puttin' caps in
So base up or get sprayed up to the waist up
You'll get found faced up, police can't trace up
Fingerprints, why? Because I leave no evidence
Big L's the name, one three nine is the residence, peace