DJ Ron G, Big L - Exclusive 2003 Shit lyrics

Big L, Harlem's finest
Yeah, the nigga who hold it down for uptown
(My nigga Big L) who gets down for the count
(Rest in peace, my nigga! Love you)
To drop something

I keep a stash full of cash
Puffing grass with a dash of some hash
Jeans be saggin' off half of my ass
I keep it ghetto, still, I'm a fly fellow
I love the cuties
No matter if they dark-skin or high yellow
My iceberg sweaters and leathers are raw
I'm getting cheddar galore like never before
I can pull a dime quicker than
Dillinger can pull a heist
I rock the blue face presidential for the ice
(Woo) me and my crew is sick like the flu
So what you gon' do, boo
When we come for you, huh?
It ain't no calling time out once
I climb out the garbage can
Get two nines out, and blow your spine out

Don't forget y'all, Ron G
You only gonna hear it right here, exclusive
Big, big shout-out to the whole 39th, 40th
You heard?

How could you call yourself MC?
If you from the hood, I know you feel me
How could you call yourself MC?
I'm the underground king
And I ain't been crowned
How could you call yourself MC?
If you from the hood, I know you feel me
How could you call yourself MC?
I'm the underground king
And I ain't been crowned

Ayo, my whole entourage is large
From here to Vegas
Imitators hate us 'cause we
Sport gators and flavors
Put snitches in boxes
Coppers and federals watch us
They tried everything in this world to
Lock us but can't stop us
I'm known for rockin' tours
Picture me moppin' floors
Only fuck with ki's and not the
Kind that be lockin' doors
What I recite be takin' hours to write
So if you bite, just tell your man what kind
Of flowers you like i be that buck wild
Foul criminal who make the women smile
It's time to drop something new
It's been a while
And L is that nigga you expect
To catch wreck on any cassette deck
I'm so ahead of my time
My parents haven't met yet

How could you call yourself MC?
If you from the hood, I know you feel me
How could you call yourself MC?
I'm the underground king
And I ain't been crowned
How could you call yourself MC?
If you from the hood, I know you feel me
How could you call yourself MC?
I'm the underground king
And I ain't been crowned

Word up, man
Nowadays these cats don't be representin' the
Microphone like they supposed to
Word up, so we gotta take it back
Only real niggas with skills
Should get deals, word up
One love to the whole Harlem clique
Herb McGruff, Mase Murda, COC, Killa Cam
Bloodshed
You know how we do, Ron G, make it hot
Uh, uh, uh, uh