Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Big L
Big L
Vocals
Kid Capri
Kid Capri
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
L. Coleman
L. Coleman
Songwriter
A. Best
A. Best
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
John Shriver
John Shriver
Assistant Engineer
Chris Irish
Chris Irish
Assistant Engineer
Dino Zervos
Dino Zervos
Assistant Engineer
Mack Robinson
Mack Robinson
Assistant Engineer
Rich July
Rich July
Mixing Engineer
Tony Dawsey
Tony Dawsey
Mastering Engineer
Tony Smalios
Tony Smalios
Recording Engineer
Buckwild
Buckwild
Producer
Chris Conway
Chris Conway
Engineer

Lyrics

(Hey) come on, come on, come on, come on (Hey) come on, come on, come on, come on (Hey) come on, come on, come on, come on (Hey) come on, come on, come on, come on (Hey) come on, come on, come on, come on Ayo, you better flee hops, or get your head flown three blocks L keep rappers' hearts pumpin' like Reeboks And every year I gain clout and my name sprouts Some brothers'd still be virgins if crack never came out I got the wild style, always been a foul child My guns go "Boom, boom" and yo' guns go "pow pow" I'm known to have a hottie open I keep the shotty smokin' Front, and get half the bones in your body broken And when it comes to gettin' nookie, I'm not a rookie I got girls that make that chick Toni Braxton look like Whoopi I run with sturdy cliques I'm never hittin' dirty chicks Got 35 bodies, buddy, don't make it 36 Step to this, you're good as gone Word is bond, I leave mics torn when I put it on So put it on, Big L, put it on! Come on, put it on, and onnn, and on! Come on, put it on, Big L, put it on! Come on, put it on, represent, put it on, come on! Nobody can take nothin' from Big L but a loss, chief The last punk who fronted got a mouth full of false teeth I'm known to gas a hottie and blast a shotty Got more cash than Gotti (You don't know?) You better ask somebody Big L is a crazy brother, and I'm a lady lover A smooth kid that'll run up in your baby mother I push a slick Benz, I'm known to hit skins And get ends and commit sins with sick friends 'Cause I'm a money getter, also a honey hitter You think you nice as me? Haha, you's a funny nigga I flows, so one of my shows wouldn't be clever to miss I'm leavin' competitors pissed To tell you the truth, it gets no better than this I'm catchin' wreck to the break of dawn In this song, yo, it's a must that I put it on Yeah, so put it on, Big L, put it on! C'mon, put it on, big fella, put it on and on! Put it on, Big L! Put it on, represent! Put it on, c'mon, put it on! Some boys see me gun nozzle and take a we fi joke Boy, you gwan dead before you see me gun smoke See me gun nozzle and take me fi joke You gwan dead from a me you provoke I drink Moët, not Beck's beer, I stay dressed in slick gear Peace to my homies in the gangsta lean, I see you when I get there And it's a fact I keep a gat in my arm reach I charm freaks and bomb geeks from here to Palm Beach I'm puttin' rappers in the wheelchair Big L is the villain you still fear 'Cause I be hangin' in Harlem and shit is for real here If you battle L, you picked the wrong head I smash mics like cornbread You can't kill me, I was born dead And I'm known to pull steel trigs and kill pigs I run with ill kids and real nigs who peel wigs My rap's steady slammin', I keep a heavy cannon It's a new sheriff in town and it ain't Reggie Hammond Peace to my peoples, the Children of the Corn 'Cause we put it on, adiós, ghost, I'm gone So put it on, Big L, put it on! C'mon, put it on, big fella put it on and on! Big L, you gotta put it on and on! Put it on, Big L put it on ond on! Word up, knahmsayin? My man Big L, runnin' things for the nine-four And nine-oh-s, you know what I mean? It's the Kid Capri, in full flair And we gon' put it on a little somethin' like this Big L, c'mon! Lord Finesse (he be puttin' it on) My man Buckwild (he be puttin' it on and on) My man Fat Joe (he be puttin' it on) Showbiz and A.G. (yeah, they be puttin' it on and on) I can't forget Diamond D (he be puttin' it on) The whole D.I.T.C. (yeah, they be puttin' it on and on) And of course Kid Capri (yeah, I be puttin' it on) The whole N.Y.C. (yeah, we be puttin' it on and on) And I'm out
Writer(s): Anthony Best, Lamont Coleman Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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