Текст пісні
Yeah, yeah, Big L, Corleone (uh-huh)
Flamboyant, baby (I hear you), for life
I be that key niggy, you see jiggy, push the V-twiggy
Large like Free Willy, me broke? Don't be silly
You's a low life, no hoes, no ice
Don't be mad at me 'cause I chose your wife
With this rap shit, I'm so nice, don't cooperate with police
On my spare time, I like to roll dice
Not for petty change, play for G's and better
You won't be rich as me if your whole crew put your cheese together
Cash, I got plenty, microphones, rock many
Everything I touch is in the top 20
Dumb hits, I'm the one chicks be hawkin' a lot
Stay drivin', so I don't be walkin' a lot
And the chains and diamonds rings that I be flossin' is hot
Plus expensive, meanin' it be costin' a lot
I'm the one, cuzzo, never slid with a bum ho
If a chick lips is jumbo, I want some gumbo
In a nigga mouth is where my gun go
139 is where I'm from, bro
You know that, I'm just remindin' you
Front and they'll be findin' you with shells from my .9 in you
You trash, that's why nobody signin' you
Ice blindin' you (yeah), click is timin' you
Waitin' to catch you flossin' somewhere so we can put you in a coffin this year
Big L, Flamboyant Records, baby
You know how we do
You ain't got a chance (it's Flamboyant, Mass Appeal)
You ain't got a chance at all (Flamboyant, Mass Appeal)
You ain't got a chance (yeah)
You ain't got a chance at all (Flamboyant, Mass Appeal)
I'm the first in rap to form a venture cap'
While y'all research that, I let my seat go back
The first Carlito of rap, well, after G Rap
My voice a needle in wax, gets the Devil attacked
I hold your skull with my fingers in your eye sockets
I won't even snitch to God, I'ma die solid
I kept the doors open in them surplus Army stores in '94
And up for certain, army hat like it's war
A firearm, fire Timbs, but this year's the year of the disrespectful comparisons
They jack anything on the internet, stupid kinda
Believe in that, you believe in chupacabra
Making funny music, it's doo-doo, caca
Brain freeze, stuck face, need agua, palabra
Give your little cute mama the side eye, a fly guy
Then give that coochie a drive-by
You don't keep her secure like Assata
My gun to your head, tell the truth
Nas, the monster that live under your bed
139th, Lenox Ave, my friend, Big L was the last of them
I'm glad I'm from the same graduating class as him
So pay full attention, remove your hats
You in the presence of a man who used to backspin
Head spin, breakdance, pop-lock to Herbie Hancock and "Rock Box"
And now we on yachts and pushin' drop-tops (yeah)
You ain't got a chance (it's Flamboyant, Mass Appeal)
You ain't got a chance at all (Flamboyant, Mass Appeal)
You ain't got a chance (yeah)
You ain't got a chance at all (Flamboyant, Mass Appeal)
Big L, Big Nas, baby
We go way, way back, how many know about that?
For today and tomorrow, it's forever
Shout to Big L
And you know it's about time we dropped the album, you know
'Cause it's-it's-it's long overdue
I think, you know, the people would appreciate it
Flamboyant, Mass Appeal (for life)