Текст песни Hell Up in Harlem - Big L

We about to make this Harlem World shit real hot
We got Murder Mase, Big L, Killa, Herb McGruff
On Ron G the mixtape king
That hold it down for Uptown
I walk around
With sick style sippin′ on Cristal
My whole clicks wild
I'm rich pal no more sticks I′m makin' hits now
What I recite be takin' hours to write
If you write tell your man what kind of flowers you like
I′m about as ridiculous as bankrolls, clothes and
Hostin′ shows, smokin foes and strokin' hoes in the Poconos
I roll wit intruders looters and sharp shooters
Who spark Budhas And fuck thick bitches wit large hooters
I grew up in the slums of greed
Known for Drawin guns with speed or
Sellin′ tons a weed cuz I got sons to feed
Harlem's where the thugs rest
We sendin faggots all the way to heaven like Doug Fresh
I only roll wit Big Willie ass niggas
So motherfuck all them little silly ass niggas
I chew punks like chew sticks
Known for droppin′ new hits
I know you want me ho if I was you I'd want me too bitch
L is that nigga you expect to catch wreck on any cassette
Debt I′m so ahead of my time my parents haven't met yet
So Herb McGruff my mellow my man
Get on the mike and do the best you can
Livin' the life of luxury
Never low funds my niggas got the guns
Girls wigglin′, shakin′ they buns
Cowards run money makin' in tuns
Swimmin′ pool you know the rules
Champagne and brew flossin' my jewels
City zone mad game like pretty Tone
3-57 chrome to your dome
Hard as stone all Gruff cars got phones
Who be that hundred dollar bill crispy
Blaze handkerchief be
Gator morry .white bacardi mad pissy
Champagne cooler filled wit Mo, Don, and Cristy
Eyes low from the dust and hydro
When bubbly get low what the fuck we buy mo
I′m universal, yeah Gruff, Herb style
Every now and then mix my herb wit Tical
I roll wit real niggas who live like foul
Range off the hook y'all short and shook
You know how many lives we took
Straight up crook Gruff
Will never live by the book
Yeah and ya don′t stop
Mase rule Harlem World baby girl
Kam rule Harlem World baby girl
Mase rule Harlem World baby girl
Kam rule Harlem World baby girl
Yo, this Mase the newest and youngest member
Represent on this new Ron G shit
Yeah kid Harlem on the rise
You don't really want a problem with us guys
I got my man Killa Kam wit me
We blowin' this shit down on the 123
Represent kid for the NYC
Yo, you know I be OT low key
Icy rollie smoke a O.Z
Hoes think I′m cute
Now I got the loot see in how to pursue
My click puff chico negro Puerto Rica
Puffin′ in the jeep still watchin' for police
Yo, I spit on the reg
And girls bodies so sweet keys taped to there legs
Became my Sugar Mammi′s
They hit me off wit mad loot plus the good punani
Now I'm rockin′ Movado like I got half of the lotto
And me and Monte Carlo sippin' Remy out the bottle
Parle wit moms Alize in my palm
I don′t know what it is or what they seen me wit
But these Moschino chicks want Casino chips
I be fuckin' wit loot 600's and coops
Mad bitches lickin′ down my stomach like I′m Luke
While you hit the scene
Flippin' bricks to get your green
I whip the mean triple beam deluxe wit the wings
Feel that one day I′ll have to die over this cream
I ain't tryin′ to be seen in jail wit 5 to 15
So I change my ways start carryin' the Koran
Follow the man that they call Louie Farrakhan
Soon as I stop dealin′ drugs is a career
A thug appeared, hit me wit a slug from the rear
It's fucked up but that what happens
When you dwell in these streets
Only to ways out the game
Go to jail or be deceased