Slaying The Mic Songtext

(Harlem, USA dawg,)
About to rip this shit
Check us out, uh
Check it out yeah
(uh, uh, uh, uh,)
Check it out yeah
Flamboyant Entertainment
(yeah, yeah, yeah,)
Flamboyant Entertainment

While we hold gats, you hold knives
When you sold Eights, we sold pies
When you rode bikes, we rode Five's
There's no comparison son, it's just embarrassing
I'm running with some of the baddest men in the whole New York
We hold the fort, y'all bitch niggas is holding dicks
Player hating, pushing stolen whips
We at the dice game rolling tricks
OT, throwing bricks, taking over
Cooking up coke with baking soda Yeah
You better spread with them thirty dollar kicks on
Or get whipped on, knocked out cold and pissed on
L is a heavy waiter, with steady paper
You the type that go to jail for a petty caper
Then come home on good behavior
Talking about you no longer hard now cause you a man of God now
Though it's amazing
L is blazing
Always been
Before I put the braids in, I used to let the waves spin
Shit you be saying, don't impress me at all
And them chicks you be jaying, don't be sexy at all
Word life
Everything that I recite stands out
Go ahead and front, so I can try this right hand out
Across your jaw
L never lost a war
No respect for them faggots who enforce the law
You got something to say? Cough it out
Cause niggas be wanting beef, but when you pull out the heat
They ready to talk it out
What is there to talk about? You was just fronting
Now it ain't nothing, ain't that something?
I should start busting anyway and put one of you punks in the ground
Y'all niggas be killing me with your face around
Jumping around
Like you scared of L
Not even
Cause imma be a thug 'till i stop breathing
Plus I'm running with a smooth ass crew
That will shoot at you
You want to knuckle up? Then fuck it, we can do that too
Nigga
I never hesitate to buck my gun
Harlem World, y'all know where the fuck I'm from