| yeah, check this shit out |
| kool g. rap and my dog big l holdin it di-down, ya heard? |
| Aiyyo; I heard your single, you better make a whole new song |
| If they said that shit is hot then they told you wrong |
| Clown niggaz, you ain’t got a chance at all |
| Big l corleone too advanced for y’all |
| I make moves and boss all across the world |
| So don’t be upset if I toss your girl |
| I got cheddar to blow, pockets never get low |
| Bitches sweat me wherever I go |
| I cruise in a gs lex', cartier specs |
| Nautica sweats with the fresh gortex |
| Jewels with baguettes, swingin like the mets |
| Throwin the dice and takin all size bets |
| Never bummy; sip rummy, get money |
| When I hit honies you felt the dick in her tummy |
| On the le-low I see dough from here to rio |
| Flamboyant records, c to the e-o — what? |
| Chorus: kool g. rap |
| Yo — all of y’all weak people fall back |
| G. rap and big l, we all that |
| Goin back to back where they brawl at Swing and walk with tall bats |
| Leavin big holes with small gats |
| Have 'em all fallin where the wall at All of y’all weak people fall back |
| G. rap and big l, we all that |
| Goin back to back where they brawl at Swing and walk with tall bats |
| Leavin big holes with small gats |
| Have 'em all fallin where the wall at Yo, from the spot to the cellblocks |
| Hot as hell blocks where shells pop |
| Where they sell rock to cop the sl drop |
| Hood bitches in nail shops; no good snitches that tell cops |
| People find bodies in lobbies, you can smell shots |
| Niggaz turn stale on the rock until they bail drop |
| New york livin, got a nigga four-fifth limpin |
| Send you as a gift to the mortician |
| If you forfeit livin — my fortune is forbidden |
| I say it one time before spittin |
| Then I leave your forehead drippin |
| I laid low then came back for more bread grippin |
| More thread flippin |
| More head from chickens, it’s time to turn the ape loose |
| Bust out the cage and let the gauge loose |
| Blow the feathers out of your nordface goose |
| It’s g. rap comin back with a click of brave troops |
| Have y’all niggaz runnin for homebase like babe ruth |
| Have you holdin holes in your body like you play flute |
| Lay you down til you get found up in the sprayed coupe |
| Prepare for the takeover — give you the face makeover |
| The seedier row and sheet draped over |
| Be found on the block with the street taped over |
| Or comin out of deep coma, your speech made slower |
| Corona queens shakedown; I’m comin with the nickel-plate pound |
| To trade rounds with all you fake clowns get down in the unsafe town |
| Lacin it down, black guerilla fams kid we takin the crown |
| Ya heard? |
| Yo kool g. rap, holdin it down with the hazardous big l Knahmean? |