Happy Birthday Big L

30/05/74

Tip yo 40'z on thursday to the original Harlem world party pleaser.

Ebonics

Yo, pay attention
And listen real closely how I break this slang shit down

Check it, my weed smoke is my lye
A ki of coke is a pie
When I'm lifted, I'm high
With new clothes on, I'm fly
Cars is whips and sneakers is kicks
Money is chips, movies is flicks
Also, cribs is homes, jacks is pay phones
Cocaine is nose candy, cigarettes is bones
A radio is a box, a razor blade is a ox
Fat diamonds is rocks and jakes is cop
And if you got rubbed, you got stuck
You got shot, you got bucked
And if you got double-crossed, you got fucked
Your bankroll is your poke, a choke hold is a yoke
A kite is a note, a con is a okey doke
And if you got punched that mean you got snuffed
To clean is to buff, a bull scare is a strong bluff
I know you like the way I'm freakin' it
I talk with slang and I'ma never stop speakin' it

'Speak with criminal slang' -Nas
That's just the way that I talk, yo
'Vocabulary spills, I'm ill' -Nas

Yo, yo
A burglary is a jook, a woof's a crook
Mobb Deep already explained the meanin' of shook
If you caught a felony, you caught a F
If you got killed, you got left
If you got the dragon, you got bad breath
If you 730, that mean you crazy
Hit me on the hip means page me
Angel dust is sherm, if you got AIDS, you got the germ
If a chick gave you a disease, then you got burned
Max mean to relax, guns and pistols is gats
Condoms is hats, critters is cracks
The food you eat is your grub
A victim's a mark
A sweat box is a small club, your tick is your heart
Your apartment is your pad
Your old man is your dad
The studio is the lab and heated is mad
I know you like the way I'm freakin' it
I talk with slang and I'ma never stop speakin' it

The iron horse is the train and champaign is bubbly
A deuce is a honey that's ugly
If your girl is fine, she's a dime
A suit is a fine, jewelry is shine
If you in love, that mean you blind
Genuine is real, a face card is a hundred dollar bill
A very hard, long stare is a grill
If you sneakin' to go see a girl, that mean you creepin'
Smilin' is cheesin', bleedin' is leakin'
Beggin is bummin, if you nuttin you comin
Takin' orders is sunnin', an ounce of coke is a onion
A hotel's a telly, a cell phone's a celly
Jealous is jelly, your food box is your belly
To guerrilla mean to use physical force
You took a L, you took a loss
To show off mean floss, uh
I know you like the way I'm freakin' it
I talk with slang and I'ma never stop speakin' it

Yeah, yeah
One love to my big brother, Big Lee
Holdin' it down
Yeah, Flamboyant for life
Yeah yeah, Flamboyant for life

R.I.P.

15/02/99

THICK IS HOW I GOT MY WHOLE CLIQUE TO SOUND
THICK IS HOW WE GETS DOWN FROM TOWN TO TOWN
IF YOU DIDNT KNOW THIS CLIQUE CANT BE TOUCHED
IF YOUR CLIQUE AINT THICK U AINT F**KN WIT US

Yeah I know it ain't Big Ls bit but I don't know his verse off by heart.

Flamboyant Entertainment for life.

i'll DEFINATLY drop some big L thursday night at OTC.
why the hell don't we have 40's in nz!i'm not pouring out a forty of spirits even for big L!
ooh yeah,its probably cos 40's of beer are a stupid idea cos they get warm before ya finish em.

BIG L
RIP.

Mad respekt out to Big L, the best ever.

His best shit has gotta be The Hiest.

Bust it
Hey yo, I just left the studio, and it's about 2 in the morn'
I just finished doin a song
Now I'm ready for sleep
But first I want spaghetti to eat
In this good Italian restaurant right up the street
So I jumped in the jeep, stash the heat under the seat
Then I got a beep
My voice is harsh, barely can speak
I called back on the cell
It's Coley, mad as hell
He told me to listen well as he started to yell
"I just seen Mike and Ben with your wife and a friend
And they just got a room in the Holiday Inn"
"It's my wife, you sure?"
"Yeah I'm sure
I saw the whore as soon she walked through the door"
"Yo, say no more, which one?"
"The one in Jersey, son, right over the bridge"
"We goin' hurt those hoes"
"And hurt both of them kids"
Now I'm in the Range
Switchin lanes, doin a buck 'n change
I can't wait to touch the lames and them fuckin dames
Reach the destination, grab the heat without no hesitation
These niggas fuckin up my reputation
I saw Coleone holdin the chrome
Ice-grill, lookin like he had a license to kill
And he had somebody else with 'em playin the cup
Lookin like he can't wait to start sprayin shit up
"Yo, who that in the background?"
"It's Tommy Giss"
"Oh, I didn't recognise you with your hat down
Son you ready, we got this whole shit mapped out"
"Yeah, wo goin to take the backroute
And pull our gats out and throw our mask on
We ain't leavin till everyone's dead and all the cash gone"
"We goin to get our laugh on when we're through
But right now we got a job to do"
"So let's do it"
Hey yo, I stepped to the deskclerk
Put the gat to her dress-shirt
Told her to listen up before she get hurt
"They just walked in, party of four, two chicks, two males
What room they got?"
She paused and said "212"
Took the steps now I'm out of breath
I gotta stop smokin
Them cigarettes goin be the cause of my death
My heart beatin fast now, cause it's about to pop off
Saw the door, let the glock off, tore the lock off
Took a deep breath, then ran inside at a quick pase
I felt disgraced, I should've shot the bitch in the face
Then my other two niggas ran in
Each had a cannon
Ready to take care, how we done planned it
"These two crab cats, we know they hustle upstate"
We know they got stacks
Cause they don't move with nothin but weight
We got the cuffs and the ducktape and put it to use
Then told 'em when this is over we be lettin 'em loose
"Hey man, I kicked Mike in his face
So I just had your back
You wanna live and tell my nigga where the stash at"
He gave me the address then I ran outside
But first I took the keys to his van outside
And when I got there, I found 50 keys in a stash
A 100 pound of grass, and 2 million in cash
I was dumb glad
The sit didn't fit in one bag
So I got three, filled 'em all up to the teeth
And put the bags in the van, then I locked the truck
When I got back, Coley done popped them punks
"Hey yo', fuck it L, we might as well pop these studs"
Man that's four bodies
Two outta-towners and two hotties
And after that we ain't sleep for three days
We hit the PJ's, split the money threeways
Now we all laughin hard, gettin nice and weeded
Celebratin nigga, heist completed

I tip my fuckin 40 to you dog.
R.I.P. Lamont Coleman
1974-1999