Yea yeah, Flamboyant Entertainment (no doubt) 
Yo, y'all fellas like to stress them chicks 
Impress them chicks, spend money to dress them chicks 
I sex them chicks and send them home 
Corleone is known to be stoned 
When I bone, I'm rubbered up in case that shit full blown 
The other night around 8 P.M. 
Pockets crazy slim, jumped out the gray BM 
Went to the ATM, took a thou' out 
then later on I had to wild out 
In the club, knock some coward and his pal out 
Then afterwards went to the restroom, pissed Cristal out 
Now I'm thinkin - which chick number I could dial out 
Cause it's L, the Harlem pimp baby, for real 
I got more dimes than that Sprint lady 
And that's ill, playa haters be givin me harsh looks 
but I'm tryin to sell records like Garth Brooks 
So eff 'em all, when it's cold I throw the skelly on 
Illegal chips keep my celly on 
Mega-ice is what I'm heavy on 
If it ain't Cristal boo, I guess it's Perignon 
If the na-na's too tight, I throw some jelly on 
Yo try to tax and watch the nine mill burst 
I've been off the scene over three years 
and cats is still thirst - to hear Big L drop an ill verse 
So all you unsigned cats that want to battle; 
get a deal first - I sport the bulletproof, fitted hat 
That attitude - you better get rid of that 
Wherever you floss is where you gon' get it at 
What? I stay strapped, I go to sleep with my steel 
Makin figures while you broke cats keepin it real 
L is rap's most livest cat 
I'm gettin stacks while you askin people, 
"Do you want fries with that?" 
I rob bags in the staircase, no mask, bare-faced 
The one police wouldn't dare chase 
Keep my gear laced - do I walk around without papes? No way pal 
Word up - my money longer than the OJ trial 

Harlem world keep holdin it down, for Big L 
Nigga long overdue - niggaz wanna know, 
do you still got it got it? ("It's so amazin'!") 
Yeah yeah yeah.. Harlem world keep holdin it down, for Big L 
Nigga long overdue - niggaz wanna know, 
do you still got it got it? ("It's so amazin'!") 

Stan Spit, yo, uh 
Yo what the hell y'all can tell Spit? Not shit 
I did a flick and bounced on L's shit 
Well shit, expect me to go platinum 
That's the only reason why I'm rappin 
And since L passed, niggaz expect me to make it happen 
with no release date, I sell in each state 
I'm the type to drive to Philly, for a cheesesteak 
So what I'm a Harlem king, doin my thing 
My name ring - chains and dames what the fame bring 
After platinum it's the same thing 
And niggaz'll never learn 
til I pull the steel and make they lover burn 
You don't get another turn, game's over 
Here's my flamethrower 
Rearrange your Rover, Harlem soldier 
Wait til I get older - and we won't stop 
I thought Mase told ya 
Nigga Stan he do what he gotta 
And these haters can't do me nada 
Be in Nevada, with a lot of enchilada 

Yo, yo move the fuck, A bring the heat, when I touch tracks 
These niggaz beef then wanna chill? Fuck that 
These rap niggaz with the mills, we deduct that 
I asked all my ghetto cats, where my love at 
Now where the brews, and the drugs at? 
Corrupt cats kept slug hats 
Asked the feds where the bugs at 
Puff with the dread, cause I puff black 
High, til I die, and you can trust that 
All I wanna know - is the club packed? 
I see the haters sweatin shorty, but I dug that 
She put my nutsac, back where her lungs at - little hoe 
And them niggaz who owe, give up that 
Huh, it's me and Corle', like Eddie and OT 
Go 'head and provoke me 
Heard you rap, wanna rhyme? Better be dope B 
Still "Diggin", still livin, still givin 
y'all the ill written, still fuckin like Bill Clinton