Big Boy Shoes

Aul Purpis ft. Craig G - “Big Boy Shoes”
[Emcee(s): Aul Purpis and Craig G]
[Producer(s): Fel Sweetenberg]

[Verse 1: Aul Purpis]
Ayyo
One for the money, two for the show
A.P., Craig G blow a hole in a dome
Yo, hitting bitches like switches in ‘64
Since shorty put a 40 ‘round the corner to the store
Go on, keep the change. I’ll make speakers bang
Elevated like your reefer game, but I’m
Prowling, stomach growling, ready to beast the game
But I’m Cold Chillin’ Records like Shan and Kane
(Come on!) Kool G, Craig, Ace, and Marley Marl
Now let’s have a ball, party like it’s Mardi Gras
With Biz Mark and Roxanne
We can run it, Purp’ll keep things running like a rock band
With the mic tucked deep in his peacoat
Out for respect and them checks and them c-notes
And the chicks, yo, that love to give him deepthroat
While he freestyling, yo, blowing out the tree smoke
From West Phil to Queensbridge
See, we cooking that dope for the folks where the fiends live

[Hook: Aul Purpis and Craig G] (x2)
These shoes, yo, is hard to fill. We ain’t
Seagal, baby pa, but we’re Hard to Kill
With that boom bap rap, we keep hard as steel
Heard you spit. You ain’t shit, you hardly ill

[Verse 2: Craig G]
Craig G, Aul Purpis, we launch more surface
Than air missiles. To most emcees, we keep ‘em nervous
The City of Philly? Keep it close to my heart
From The Bridge, but my first record label was Pop Art
It’s hip hop, I’m cuffed in the back of a cop car
And knockoffs? Dismember their bodies on drop cloths
(What up?) This is lyricism at its finest
You’re the king—be prepared to duck shots, your Royal Highness
Been spitting since Cool C rapped about [?] and
Schoolly looked at his “Gucci”—yeah, I’m sure you probably seen us
You didn’t ask your uncle or the boss that you hustled for
Me and Aul Purpis making dollars, you a customer
Young with an old soul. Yeah, I probably fucks with ya
If not, get your footie pajamas, grab your comforter
The street lights pay more—you’ll probably miss curfew
It’s tough being a fraud on these streets—someone could murk you
Was here before hip hop done went and lost its virtue
A get-rich-quick scheme now, one big commercial
For items that no one in the hood can afford
So we’re about to shut this whole shit down—unplug the cord
What up?!?

[Hook: Aul Purpis and Craig G] (x2)
These shoes, yo, is hard to fill. We ain’t
Seagal, baby pa, but we’re Hard to Kill
With that boom bap rap, we keep hard as steel
Heard you spit. You ain’t shit, you hardly ill

[Verse 3: Aul Purpis]
Ayyo
Aul Purp’ A1 mind military
This ain’t old-school, my dude. This is legendary
See, the brother’s got it covered like a secondary
Going deep, thinking sweet truly unnecessary
Best believe I ain’t messing around
You could sleep in the cemetery, stuck way underground
Yo, Craig, good-looking, G, for holding me down
And I’ll rock steady, ready, fit a hole in the ground
Smack niggas in the head like Homey D. Clown
If I ever catch another man cloning my sound
I’m hunting him down right there, right on the spot
Begging “please” on his knees while he making salat
In the club with a buzz, nigga sipping Ciroc
With a bad bitch on your hip like Vivica Fox
Either way, night or day, yo, I’ll be at your top
For violating and hating, here’s the penalty box
Nigga

[Hook: Aul Purpis and Craig G] (x2)
These shoes, yo, is hard to fill. We ain’t
Seagal, baby pa, but we’re Hard to Kill
With that boom bap rap, we keep hard as steel
Heard you spit. You ain’t shit, you hardly ill