'92 Rock N. Wills Audition (Hardpack Tape Freestyle Live on 125th)

[Intro: Big L]

Yo one two, one two, go 'head, you can drop it

Yeah one two one two, I go by the name of the Big L, ya know what I'm sayin'. Rock this with Rock N. Wills, the hardpack tape, aight it go like this

[Verse 1: Big L]

Ayyo I got the gift o' 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 hook 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 o' that

Rhymes never sound wack

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

Alright check this out, another joint like this…

[Verse 2: Big L]

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 hook and get your title took

[Big L]

Yeah, I'm a pass it to my man

[Lord Finesse]

Haha, said he got flavor. Yeah you keep that flowin', enjoy baby, you wanna kick some flavor

[Verse 3: Lord Finesse]

Now check it out, I'm a get paid for the nineteen nineties

I don't care who likes me or who stands behind me

The man to peep, far from weak so don't sleep

From stage to streets I still go one deep

So save that off the wall bullshit, ya get had son

Fuck around, grab the mic and catch a bad one

I come correct and strapped to bust a ill rap

Me take a loss to who? Ya oughta kill that

Back up, slack up, give a brother some head room

Hype on the mic, amazin' in the bedroom

Girls like me cause I'm straight and don't sidestep

I do shit Jack LaLanne ain't tried yet

Ask any female, bet you she'll say I'm good

That's why I'm Finesse, porn star of the neighborhood

Yeah, cause I kick slicker raps

It's Lord Finesse, so bow and tip your hat

And make way cause I get plenty say

And those who don't like me I don't give a shit anyway

Cause when it comes to lyrics I always find somethin'

That make brothers press the rewind button

I'm a get mine, tell me what you're gonna do?

Cause ya couldn't see me if ya wanted to

Get who you want, shit you could call the cops

But for now, I'm gettin' all my props

I reign terror, whatever's clever

I'm cooler than The Mack and Shaft put together

So chill, don't try to get ill dummy

Me get stomped by who? Be for real, money

I'm not havin' it so go on and get your best group

You'll see why they call me Lord Finesse, troop

I eat 'em like sandwiches, send 'em home in bandages

Gimme that mic, I'll show you what doin' damage is

Nice, swift and deeper than quicksand

I'm takin' out opponents like a hit man

I get the crowd hype like a sorta drug

It's Lord Finesse, who the fuck you thought it was?

I lounge and chill but still could get ill

I'm live and real with skill beyond skill

Pull girls like a lasso, keep the crazy cash flow

A nigga beat me on the mic? Don't be an asshole

I'm indestructible so bring in a substitute

What's up with a battle? Yo I can't fuck with you

[Lord Finesse]

Yo it's like that y'all, it's like that-tha-that it's like that y'all

I'm a let my man flip that beat for me

Ya don't stop…I'm gonna kick this last rhyme then I'm gonna pass it back to my man

Keep it flowin'…Got my man Big L in the house. Lord Finesse, for the hardpack, got my man Will in the house, you know what I'm sayin', my man Wick Wise in the house, Rock out there makin' the money, I don't know where Mo at but she on the slow jam tip you know what I'm sayin', we gonna get this flowin' in a minute…aight check it out…Keep this flowin', ya know what I'm sayin'…Here it is, we gonna check it out like this and ya don't stop, now keep it on 'til the break o' dawn

[Verse 4: Lord Finesse]

I'm intellectual, gettin' the best of you

I eat MCs like the food at a festival

Drop science and math; stand tall like a giraffe

Completin' the…task, breakin' rappers in half

Puttin' suckers out of it, yeah I talk a lot of shit

But when it comes to rhymes I deserve a fuckin' scholarship

Won't front or perp the role, I get the most of hoes

I'm so cool, I've got pussy on remote control

Whether you're a virgin or a bad lookin' hot sister

I'm baggin' up bitches like a shoplifter

So Lord Finesse is not the one to fool

I was gettin' sex since they first invented Underoos

So set it off, no time to rehearse the rappin'

It's Lord Finesse, so prepare for the worst to happen

Mics get ripped up, good times get tucked

Throw your hands in the air, suckers keep your lips shut

Cause ya'll wanna waste time sayin' them fake rhymes

Gimme my respect and props or I'm a take mine

Cause I ain't nothin' to play with

And fuckin' with me ya need more than a first aid kit

So it's better that ya chill and max with me

I'm sendin' out warnin's quicker than a fax machine

I get funky and kick it so let's get wit' it

Opponents who think they can hang, y'all can forget it

I sit and write rhymes, makin' up hype lines

Achievin' shit you couldn't do in a lifetime

So don't care me and compare me to those other brothers

I'm Lord Finesse and I'm one bad ass muthafucker

I'm doin' MCs as ya hire 'em

Bustin' they ass and make 'em sign up for retirement

Without doubt I'm a brother with all the clout

Whoever said I'm wack, what the fuck is they talkin' about?

Yeah, you don't stop, so L, my man my brother

Tear shit up you bad muthafucker

[Verse 5: Big L]

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 wack 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