L-Fudge and Big L Freestyle (Brothers on the Slide: The Lost Freestyle Sessions)

DJ Unknown & DJ Mekalek ft. L-Fudge and Big L - “L-Fudge and Big L Freestyle (Brothers on the Slide: The Lost Freestyle Sessions)”
[Emcee(s): L-Fudge and Big L]
[Producer(s) of Instrumental 1: DJ Spinna (Original Instrumental from Mr. Complex ft. Apani - "Visualize")]
[Producer(s) of Instrumental 2: [?]]
[DJ Mix: DJ Unknown and DJ Mekalek]
[Scratches: DJ Unknown and DJ Mekalek]

[Intro: L-Fudge]
Collaboration right quick, getting on this mixtape. Unknown and Mek. Where the hell is Annie at? (Big L. Check it out). L-Fudge. Yo, L-Fudge. I’ll all up in here, man. Yeah. You know how that goes, man. Don’t think I’m lost or nothing, B. Yo, yo

[Verse 1: L-Fudge]
You lack
Some minerals and vitamins—respect due to that
The average hip hop consumers now is like, “Who that?”
Songs nowadays ain't staying stuck in your brain. It got
To the point that all songs that suck sound the same
I’m speaking on behalf of a third of us in the game
That, when dope comes up, they ain't announcing our names
Not running up in clubs screaming. When my songs pumping
In ‘em, celeb status waning like Keenen
Ain’t bigheaded or gassed up—I'm staying on the cement
Don't want to hear that shit ‘round me. Y’all playing with my feelings
‘Cause y'all couldn't help notice bitches raving over me, then
You automatically think they gave off fragrance of my semen
Pay attention closely to how stupid y'all look
Like a producer dropping dime on a loop Buddha took
Shit. Back to the song, continuing, splitting lyrics
In half to the point, in the bathroom, you ask if it’s on
They’ll be like, “Yeah it is. Don't his raps be the bomb?” Listen
Once we’re done zipping up our pants, sing along
Bring it on whenever—that's how this shit’s supposed to be
I ain't new nice—I've been since “Hawaiian Sophie,” please
For all my real niggas smoking chronic in blunts
To my British niggas smoking spliffs along with Silk Cut
To all my European niggas smoking ounces of skunk
To my Dominicans making thousands off of just one
I could make songs for y’all—shit—why the fuck not?
I’m sick of first hits (Chill, chill, chill), hiding from cops
Shit. What? Don’t it pay to be dope
I’m addictive to bitches—they give me brains to elope
But I’m tied up like Rudolph on a sleigh to a rope
And cut ‘em short like the tribute movie made for the G.O.A.T

[Interlude 1: L-Fudge]
Yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah). I know what I’m talking about

[Hook: Samples with Scratches by DJ Unknown and DJ Mekalek]
“L-Fudge” - Sample from [?] - “[?]”
“Brothers running game but, to be honest, I ain't checking y'all” - Sample from Akrobatik - “The Flow” (x2)
“Big L, rest in peace” - Sample from DJ Premier on Gang Starr - “Full Clip”

[Interlude 2: Big L and L-Fudge]
Big L: Yeah, check this shit out
L-Fudge: L-Fudge freestyle. L-Fudge is up in here. What, what? What, what? I’m the god, dog. I’m the “god” backwards, the god, dog. Not a guard dog. I’m the god, dog. Fuck that. I’m biting y’all cats. L-Fudge is up in here, “god” backwards. I’m the “go-god” backwards. I’m the “go-god” backwards. It’s on

[Verse 2: L-Fudge]
I’m sick and tired of not being the number one nigga in this
Fighting full-scale wars to the finish
But I’ll believe in God backwards. To dogcatchers
I’ll roleplay and leap frogs to snatch ya
There ain't no place for me here, so I got to split
This is the last learned lesson that I got to get
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you could hate me now, yeah
But you’re better off dressing in drag to take me out
Go to the Mill Man March as Klansmen and make it out
Disguised as Bushes at the White House staking out
I’ll laugh at those foes that claim that they can't get
Disposed of like torn clothes—believe it son, yeah
I got jackets that got hatchet compartments
Backs watched automatic for dramatic departments
I'm a Prodigy who don't need Havoc to rock it
My Mobb's Deep, quick to kill, plead insanity on it
A pack of wild Dominicans who give their life to get
Their point across with bulletproof on while entering oblivions
S-A, N-T-O D-O-M-I-
-N-G-O and Puerto Plata on the red eye

[Verse 3: Big L]
Fuck them other cats—I'm running with my own wolfpack
Keep fronting like you's a thug and get your dome pushed back
‘Cause you don't get down—that tough shit you talk is profound
You's a clown. Fuck around, come uptown and get found
I’ll keep a pocket full—none of you niggas could touch my funds
I don't fight no more. All I do is bust my guns
While you home relaxed, I'm squeezing MACs, busting off caps
Those coward cats with gold and platinum plaques get taxed
And I do jux and sling pies to make cream rise
It's all about these green guys. Front, your whole team dies
How I'm living so far? Swell. You can't scar L
Head of the cartel selling more cakes than Carvel, and I'm
Labeled a kind thug. Police got my line bugged
Hope I see the grave from old age and not a nine slug
I'm quick to bust a mean nut in some teen slut
Big L is clean-cut with more jewels than King Tut

[Outro: Big L]
Ayyo, what’s up? This is Big L, know’m saying? Calling to see how that joint, you know’m saying, came out