L-Fudge and Big L Freestyle

DJ Unknown & DJ Mekalek ft. L-Fudge and Big L - “L-Fudge and Big L Freestyle (Brothers on the Slide: The Lost Freestyle Sessions)”

[Emcee(s): L-Fudge and Big L]

[Producer(s) of Instrumental 1: DJ Spinna (Original Instrumental from Mr. Complex ft. Apani - "Visualize")]

[Producer(s) of Instrumental 2: [?]]

[DJ Mix: DJ Unknown and DJ Mekalek]

[Scratches: DJ Unknown and DJ Mekalek]

[Intro: L-Fudge]

Collaboration right quick, getting on this mixtape.  Unknown and Mek.  Where the hell is Annie at?  (Big L.  Check it out).  L-Fudge.  Yo, L-Fudge.  I’ll all up in here, man.  Yeah.  You know how that goes, man.  Don’t think I’m lost or nothing, B.  Yo, yo

[Verse 1: L-Fudge]

You lack

Some minerals and vitamins—respect due to that

The average hip hop consumers now is like, “Who that?”

Songs nowadays ain't staying stuck in your brain.  It got

To the point that all songs that suck sound the same

I’m speaking on behalf of a third of us in the game

That, when dope comes up, they ain't announcing our names

Not running up in clubs screaming.  When my songs pumping

In ‘em, celeb status waning like Keenen

Ain’t bigheaded or gassed up—I'm staying on the cement

Don't want to hear that shit ‘round me.  Y’all playing with my feelings

‘Cause y'all couldn't help notice bitches raving over me, then

You automatically think they gave off fragrance of my semen

Pay attention closely to how stupid y'all look

Like a producer dropping dime on a loop Buddha took

Shit.  Back to the song, continuing, splitting lyrics

In half to the point, in the bathroom, you ask if it’s on

They’ll be like, “Yeah it is.  Don't his raps be the bomb?”  Listen

Once we’re done zipping up our pants, sing along

Bring it on whenever—that's how this shit’s supposed to be

I ain't new nice—I've been since “Hawaiian Sophie,” please

For all my real niggas smoking chronic in blunts

To my British niggas smoking spliffs along with Silk Cut

To all my European niggas smoking ounces of skunk

To my Dominicans making thousands off of just one

I could make songs for y’all—shit—why the fuck not?

I’m sick of first hits (Chill, chill, chill), hiding from cops

Shit.  What?  Don’t it pay to be dope

I’m addictive to bitches—they give me brains to elope

But I’m tied up like Rudolph on a sleigh to a rope

And cut ‘em short like the tribute movie made for the G.O.A.T

[Interlude 1: L-Fudge]

Yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah).  I know what I’m talking about

[Hook: Samples with Scratches by DJ Unknown and DJ Mekalek]

“L-Fudge” - Sample from [?] - “[?]”

“Brothers running game but, to be honest, I ain't checking y'all” - Sample from Akrobatik - “The Flow” (x2)

“Big L, rest in peace” - Sample from DJ Premier on Gang Starr - “Full Clip”

[Interlude 2: Big L and L-Fudge]

Big L: Yeah, check this shit out

L-Fudge: L-Fudge freestyle.  L-Fudge is up in here.  What, what?  What, what?  I’m the god, dog.  I’m the “god” backwards, the god, dog.  Not a guard dog.  I’m the god, dog.  Fuck that.  I’m biting y’all cats.  L-Fudge is up in here, “god” backwards.  I’m the “go-god” backwards.  I’m the “go-god” backwards.  It’s on

[Verse 2: L-Fudge]

I’m sick and tired of not being the number one nigga in this

Fighting full-scale wars to the finish

But I’ll believe in God backwards.  To dogcatchers

I’ll roleplay and leap frogs to snatch ya

There ain't no place for me here, so I got to split

This is the last learned lesson that I got to get

Yeah, yeah, yeah, you could hate me now, yeah

But you’re better off dressing in drag to take me out

Go to the Mill Man March as Klansmen and make it out

Disguised as Bushes at the White House staking out

I’ll laugh at those foes that claim that they can't get

Disposed of like torn clothes—believe it son, yeah

I got jackets that got hatchet compartments

Backs watched automatic for dramatic departments

I'm a Prodigy who don't need Havoc to rock it

My Mobb's Deep, quick to kill, plead insanity on it

A pack of wild Dominicans who give their life to get

Their point across with bulletproof on while entering oblivions

S-A, N-T-O D-O-M-I-

-N-G-O and Puerto Plata on the red eye

[Verse 3: Big L]

Fuck them other cats—I'm running with my own wolfpack

Keep fronting like you's a thug and get your dome pushed back

‘Cause you don't get down—that tough shit you talk is profound

You's a clown.  Fuck around, come uptown and get found

I’ll keep a pocket full—none of you niggas could touch my funds

I don't fight no more.  All I do is bust my guns

While you home relaxed, I'm squeezing MACs, busting off caps

Those coward cats with gold and platinum plaques get taxed

And I do jux and sling pies to make cream rise

It's all about these green guys.  Front, your whole team dies

How I'm living so far?  Swell.  You can't scar L

Head of the cartel selling more cakes than Carvel, and I'm

Labeled a kind thug.  Police got my line bugged

Hope I see the grave from old age and not a nine slug

I'm quick to bust a mean nut in some teen slut

Big L is clean-cut with more jewels than King Tut

[Outro: Big L]

Ayyo, what’s up?  This is Big L, know’m saying?  Calling to see how that joint, you know’m saying, came out