[{"id":37855660,"name":"Blackout Rap Show Freestyle","trackName":"Blackout Rap Show Freestyle","artistName":"Big L & O C","albumName":"Blackout Rap Show Freestyle","duration":415.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I be puffin' blunts in the house, hittin' stunts on the couch\nThis year, crazy cats gon' get punched in they mouth\nWhen your wife see me, she don't know how to act\nSo don't be mad when I blow out her back; for real\nYour whole crew's a buncha poo butts, made a few bucks\nJ'd a few sluts,\nthen ya'll started runnin' your lips a little too much\nGot chedda to blow, pockets never get low\nChickens sweat me wherever I go\nMe and O.C. be in the Lex', Cartier specs, Nautica sweats\nGore-Tex, with Presidentials on, full of baguettes\nI done sold coke, sold crack, sold smoke, sold smack\nNow I wanna gold plaque, can I get a soul clap?\nSome cats be col' wack\nYou got the lye? Well brother, roll that\nAnd if it won't get me high, then hold that\nI'mma cop me a six, and cruise through the block with your trick\nI'mma keep droppin' them hits, it won't stop 'til I'm rich\n\nAny mic I hold in the grip of my palm\nI wave it over the crowd, dictating shit like Genghis Khan\nNonchalantly deliver the flow like drug traffic\nScolding, bringing somatic to this rap shit\nBona fide. Mic set, you can't see me on it\nMaster the art, so now I just flaunt it\nBorn to live a life and die, but 'til then\nI'mma keep on writing slick rhymes with the pen\nI take the cherry from a beat like a virgin havin' innocent\nBust my nut, bring rhyme to life like Genesis\nPoetical renaissance, endeavors are flawless\nTearing it up when it comes to me picking up this cordless\nOne of New York's finest\nOn this trip, I coincide with Beatminerz\nBringing out the best in me\nWe formulatin' like a recipe\nWater and dough, we sho' 'nuff\nBestow my presence\nThen I'm divine like the seven\nKeeping it tight, cause what I suffice is raw nigga\nIt's only right\n\nLike that, y'all\n\nIt's like that, y'all\n\nOn the Blackout Rap show, with my man Phat Phillie\nCheck it out, uhh\nWe about to get into a verse like this\nCheck me out, y'all\n\nHmm-mmm\n\nYeah, yeah\nA couple of years ago, before the year nine-fo'\nMy cash flow was low, I was low on dough\nUsed to try to talk to fly girls, and they was like: No!\nI knew that all of that'd change once I started to blow\nNow my pockets are bloated, because I exploded\nStay devoted, dropped a hot album, now I'm loaded\nI hang with fly stars, buy cars, for fifty-thou'\nThe New York City child, thug with a pretty smile\nI love this rap game, that's why I married it\nIt's a big load, but somebody gots to carry it\nAt one point I was about to give up\nThen got offered a record deal, and my eyes lit up\nIn 1992, boo, my dream came true\nFirst I got the fame, then the cream came through\nWord up, I used to rhyme all the time\nWhoever thought that slim kid from one-three-nine'd\nShine down the line, huh?\nI used to sell cracks, now I sell tracks\nListen up, cause when L raps, he tell facts\nI'm the type of cat to lay wack MCs to rest\nI was told to work hard to achieve success\nWords of wisdom from my father\nHe said: L, when things ain't going so well\nDon't give up, try harder\nAnd never be afraid to make mistakes\nAnd don't spend your cash foolishly, save your papes\nCause good things come to those who wait they turn\nStay concerned, cause it's a lotta papes to earn\nAnd help those that's less fortunate than you\nAnd stay true to whatever you do, until you're through\n\nYo, uhh\nO.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\nO.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\nTo rock like I do, it takes certain zest\nI'm truly untouchable, like Elliot Ness\nSee, my word and verse is fly. One moment tranquil\nThen the next minute it goes with the strength to kill\nI can rock a party right, all night, just trust me\nNot an MC out there who can touch me\nAnywhere I go, young ladies, they rush me\nWhen I'm on the mic, no way in hell you can hush me\nMy mere presence will leave you in awe\nAnd when I'm through you too will call me pa-pa\nNow is the time to settle this vendetta\nSlicin' MCs like a Swiss-cheese shredda\nIf you don't like Swiss, then I cut you like chedda\nThick, slow and quick, great pain it will inflict\nThe beat's on time and the cuts all click\nElegant, never meant, I loves to invent\nIf you heard me say I rock, this is what I meant\nI don't shriek, I speak, I could never be weak\nI got the crowd overwhelmed with my rap mystique\nI'm shrewd, never booed, I wear the MC crown\nWhen I step in the place, MCs, they bow down\nSuckas I will smash, they're not fit for the class\nYo, when we get on the mic, they break out like a rash\nCause my sonic, atomic MCs get moronic\nChillin' with Big L, we like: It's bionic\nCharismatic, emphatic, bass has no static\nStrungin' off the rhyme like a cocaine addict\nNothing but cheers, call O.C. the leader\nDef rhyme writer, fake MC defeater\nGirlfriend said you're sweet, but I'm sweeter\nI'll slay any MC in this rappin' arena\nColossal, not a fossil, MCs are quite docile\nTeach what I'm preaching, you can call me an apostle\nTall, not short, dog, and this is the sport\nI'm a soldier with the mic, and I'm guarding my fort\nAnd MCs are no bigger than my big toe\nAnd I get higher rating than The Cosby Show\nWhen I recite my rhyme, just for you, my friend","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout Rap Show Freestyle\n  artist: Big L & O C\n  album: Blackout Rap Show Freestyle\n  duration_ms: 415000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  I be puffin' blunts in the house, hittin' stunts on the couch\n  This year, crazy cats gon' get punched in they mouth\n  When your wife see me, she don't know how to act\n  So don't be mad when I blow out her back; for real\n  Your whole crew's a buncha poo butts, made a few bucks\n  J'd a few sluts,\n  then ya'll started runnin' your lips a little too much\n  Got chedda to blow, pockets never get low\n  Chickens sweat me wherever I go\n  Me and O.C. be in the Lex', Cartier specs, Nautica sweats\n  Gore-Tex, with Presidentials on, full of baguettes\n  I done sold coke, sold crack, sold smoke, sold smack\n  Now I wanna gold plaque, can I get a soul clap?\n  Some cats be col' wack\n  You got the lye? Well brother, roll that\n  And if it won't get me high, then hold that\n  I'mma cop me a six, and cruise through the block with your trick\n  I'mma keep droppin' them hits, it won't stop 'til I'm rich\n\n  Any mic I hold in the grip of my palm\n  I wave it over the crowd, dictating shit like Genghis Khan\n  Nonchalantly deliver the flow like drug traffic\n  Scolding, bringing somatic to this rap shit\n  Bona fide. Mic set, you can't see me on it\n  Master the art, so now I just flaunt it\n  Born to live a life and die, but 'til then\n  I'mma keep on writing slick rhymes with the pen\n  I take the cherry from a beat like a virgin havin' innocent\n  Bust my nut, bring rhyme to life like Genesis\n  Poetical renaissance, endeavors are flawless\n  Tearing it up when it comes to me picking up this cordless\n  One of New York's finest\n  On this trip, I coincide with Beatminerz\n  Bringing out the best in me\n  We formulatin' like a recipe\n  Water and dough, we sho' 'nuff\n  Bestow my presence\n  Then I'm divine like the seven\n  Keeping it tight, cause what I suffice is raw nigga\n  It's only right\n\n  Like that, y'all\n\n  It's like that, y'all\n\n  On the Blackout Rap show, with my man Phat Phillie\n  Check it out, uhh\n  We about to get into a verse like this\n  Check me out, y'all\n\n  Hmm-mmm\n\n  Yeah, yeah\n  A couple of years ago, before the year nine-fo'\n  My cash flow was low, I was low on dough\n  Used to try to talk to fly girls, and they was like: No!\n  I knew that all of that'd change once I started to blow\n  Now my pockets are bloated, because I exploded\n  Stay devoted, dropped a hot album, now I'm loaded\n  I hang with fly stars, buy cars, for fifty-thou'\n  The New York City child, thug with a pretty smile\n  I love this rap game, that's why I married it\n  It's a big load, but somebody gots to carry it\n  At one point I was about to give up\n  Then got offered a record deal, and my eyes lit up\n  In 1992, boo, my dream came true\n  First I got the fame, then the cream came through\n  Word up, I used to rhyme all the time\n  Whoever thought that slim kid from one-three-nine'd\n  Shine down the line, huh?\n  I used to sell cracks, now I sell tracks\n  Listen up, cause when L raps, he tell facts\n  I'm the type of cat to lay wack MCs to rest\n  I was told to work hard to achieve success\n  Words of wisdom from my father\n  He said: L, when things ain't going so well\n  Don't give up, try harder\n  And never be afraid to make mistakes\n  And don't spend your cash foolishly, save your papes\n  Cause good things come to those who wait they turn\n  Stay concerned, cause it's a lotta papes to earn\n  And help those that's less fortunate than you\n  And stay true to whatever you do, until you're through\n\n  Yo, uhh\n  O.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\n  O.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\n  To rock like I do, it takes certain zest\n  I'm truly untouchable, like Elliot Ness\n  See, my word and verse is fly. One moment tranquil\n  Then the next minute it goes with the strength to kill\n  I can rock a party right, all night, just trust me\n  Not an MC out there who can touch me\n  Anywhere I go, young ladies, they rush me\n  When I'm on the mic, no way in hell you can hush me\n  My mere presence will leave you in awe\n  And when I'm through you too will call me pa-pa\n  Now is the time to settle this vendetta\n  Slicin' MCs like a Swiss-cheese shredda\n  If you don't like Swiss, then I cut you like chedda\n  Thick, slow and quick, great pain it will inflict\n  The beat's on time and the cuts all click\n  Elegant, never meant, I loves to invent\n  If you heard me say I rock, this is what I meant\n  I don't shriek, I speak, I could never be weak\n  I got the crowd overwhelmed with my rap mystique\n  I'm shrewd, never booed, I wear the MC crown\n  When I step in the place, MCs, they bow down\n  Suckas I will smash, they're not fit for the class\n  Yo, when we get on the mic, they break out like a rash\n  Cause my sonic, atomic MCs get moronic\n  Chillin' with Big L, we like: It's bionic\n  Charismatic, emphatic, bass has no static\n  Strungin' off the rhyme like a cocaine addict\n  Nothing but cheers, call O.C. the leader\n  Def rhyme writer, fake MC defeater\n  Girlfriend said you're sweet, but I'm sweeter\n  I'll slay any MC in this rappin' arena\n  Colossal, not a fossil, MCs are quite docile\n  Teach what I'm preaching, you can call me an apostle\n  Tall, not short, dog, and this is the sport\n  I'm a soldier with the mic, and I'm guarding my fort\n  And MCs are no bigger than my big toe\n  And I get higher rating than The Cosby Show\n  When I recite my rhyme, just for you, my friend\n"},{"id":10568568,"name":"Blackout Rap Show Freestyle '97","trackName":"Blackout Rap Show Freestyle '97","artistName":"O.C. feat. Big L","albumName":"The O-Zone Files: Rare Demos and Unreleased Tracks","duration":417.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I be puffin' blunts in the house, hittin' stunts on the couch\nThis year, crazy cats gon' get punched in they mouth\nWhen your wife see me, she don't know how to act\nSo don't be mad when I blow out her back; for real\nYour whole crew's a buncha poo butts, made a few bucks\nJ'd a few sluts,\nthen ya'll started runnin' your lips a little too much\nGot chedda to blow, pockets never get low\nChickens sweat me wherever I go\nMe and O.C. be in the Lex', Cartier specs, Nautica sweats\nGore-Tex, with Presidentials on, full of baguettes\nI done sold coke, sold crack, sold smoke, sold smack\nNow I wanna gold plaque, can I get a soul clap?\nSome cats be col' wack\nYou got the lye? Well brother, roll that\nAnd if it won't get me high, then hold that\nI'mma cop me a six, and cruise through the block with your trick\nI'mma keep droppin' them hits, it won't stop 'til I'm rich\n\nAny mic I hold in the grip of my palm\nI wave it over the crowd, dictating shit like Genghis Khan\nNonchalantly deliver the flow like drug traffic\nScolding, bringing somatic to this rap shit\nBona fide. Mic set, you can't see me on it\nMaster the art, so now I just flaunt it\nBorn to live a life and die, but 'til then\nI'mma keep on writing slick rhymes with the pen\nI take the cherry from a beat like a virgin havin' innocent\nBust my nut, bring rhyme to life like Genesis\nPoetical renaissance, endeavors are flawless\nTearing it up when it comes to me picking up this cordless\nOne of New York's finest\nOn this trip, I coincide with Beatminerz\nBringing out the best in me\nWe formulatin' like a recipe\nWater and dough, we sho' 'nuff\nBestow my presence\nThen I'm divine like the seven\nKeeping it tight, cause what I suffice is raw nigga\nIt's only right\n\nLike that, y'all\n\nIt's like that, y'all\n\nOn the Blackout Rap show, with my man Phat Phillie\nCheck it out, uhh\nWe about to get into a verse like this\nCheck me out, y'all\n\nHmm-mmm\n\nYeah, yeah\nA couple of years ago, before the year nine-fo'\nMy cash flow was low, I was low on dough\nUsed to try to talk to fly girls, and they was like: No!\nI knew that all of that'd change once I started to blow\nNow my pockets are bloated, because I exploded\nStay devoted, dropped a hot album, now I'm loaded\nI hang with fly stars, buy cars, for fifty-thou'\nThe New York City child, thug with a pretty smile\nI love this rap game, that's why I married it\nIt's a big load, but somebody gots to carry it\nAt one point I was about to give up\nThen got offered a record deal, and my eyes lit up\nIn 1992, boo, my dream came true\nFirst I got the fame, then the cream came through\nWord up, I used to rhyme all the time\nWhoever thought that slim kid from one-three-nine'd\nShine down the line, huh?\nI used to sell cracks, now I sell tracks\nListen up, cause when L raps, he tell facts\nI'm the type of cat to lay wack MCs to rest\nI was told to work hard to achieve success\nWords of wisdom from my father\nHe said: L, when things ain't going so well\nDon't give up, try harder\nAnd never be afraid to make mistakes\nAnd don't spend your cash foolishly, save your papes\nCause good things come to those who wait they turn\nStay concerned, cause it's a lotta papes to earn\nAnd help those that's less fortunate than you\nAnd stay true to whatever you do, until you're through\n\nYo, uhh\nO.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\nO.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\nTo rock like I do, it takes certain zest\nI'm truly untouchable, like Elliot Ness\nSee, my word and verse is fly. One moment tranquil\nThen the next minute it goes with the strength to kill\nI can rock a party right, all night, just trust me\nNot an MC out there who can touch me\nAnywhere I go, young ladies, they rush me\nWhen I'm on the mic, no way in hell you can hush me\nMy mere presence will leave you in awe\nAnd when I'm through you too will call me pa-pa\nNow is the time to settle this vendetta\nSlicin' MCs like a Swiss-cheese shredda\nIf you don't like Swiss, then I cut you like chedda\nThick, slow and quick, great pain it will inflict\nThe beat's on time and the cuts all click\nElegant, never meant, I loves to invent\nIf you heard me say I rock, this is what I meant\nI don't shriek, I speak, I could never be weak\nI got the crowd overwhelmed with my rap mystique\nI'm shrewd, never booed, I wear the MC crown\nWhen I step in the place, MCs, they bow down\nSuckas I will smash, they're not fit for the class\nYo, when we get on the mic, they break out like a rash\nCause my sonic, atomic MCs get moronic\nChillin' with Big L, we like: It's bionic\nCharismatic, emphatic, bass has no static\nStrungin' off the rhyme like a cocaine addict\nNothing but cheers, call O.C. the leader\nDef rhyme writer, fake MC defeater\nGirlfriend said you're sweet, but I'm sweeter\nI'll slay any MC in this rappin' arena\nColossal, not a fossil, MCs are quite docile\nTeach what I'm preaching, you can call me an apostle\nTall, not short, dog, and this is the sport\nI'm a soldier with the mic, and I'm guarding my fort\nAnd MCs are no bigger than my big toe\nAnd I get higher rating than The Cosby Show\nWhen I recite my rhyme, just for you, my friend","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout Rap Show Freestyle '97\n  artist: O.C. feat. Big L\n  album: 'The O-Zone Files: Rare Demos and Unreleased Tracks'\n  duration_ms: 417000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  I be puffin' blunts in the house, hittin' stunts on the couch\n  This year, crazy cats gon' get punched in they mouth\n  When your wife see me, she don't know how to act\n  So don't be mad when I blow out her back; for real\n  Your whole crew's a buncha poo butts, made a few bucks\n  J'd a few sluts,\n  then ya'll started runnin' your lips a little too much\n  Got chedda to blow, pockets never get low\n  Chickens sweat me wherever I go\n  Me and O.C. be in the Lex', Cartier specs, Nautica sweats\n  Gore-Tex, with Presidentials on, full of baguettes\n  I done sold coke, sold crack, sold smoke, sold smack\n  Now I wanna gold plaque, can I get a soul clap?\n  Some cats be col' wack\n  You got the lye? Well brother, roll that\n  And if it won't get me high, then hold that\n  I'mma cop me a six, and cruise through the block with your trick\n  I'mma keep droppin' them hits, it won't stop 'til I'm rich\n\n  Any mic I hold in the grip of my palm\n  I wave it over the crowd, dictating shit like Genghis Khan\n  Nonchalantly deliver the flow like drug traffic\n  Scolding, bringing somatic to this rap shit\n  Bona fide. Mic set, you can't see me on it\n  Master the art, so now I just flaunt it\n  Born to live a life and die, but 'til then\n  I'mma keep on writing slick rhymes with the pen\n  I take the cherry from a beat like a virgin havin' innocent\n  Bust my nut, bring rhyme to life like Genesis\n  Poetical renaissance, endeavors are flawless\n  Tearing it up when it comes to me picking up this cordless\n  One of New York's finest\n  On this trip, I coincide with Beatminerz\n  Bringing out the best in me\n  We formulatin' like a recipe\n  Water and dough, we sho' 'nuff\n  Bestow my presence\n  Then I'm divine like the seven\n  Keeping it tight, cause what I suffice is raw nigga\n  It's only right\n\n  Like that, y'all\n\n  It's like that, y'all\n\n  On the Blackout Rap show, with my man Phat Phillie\n  Check it out, uhh\n  We about to get into a verse like this\n  Check me out, y'all\n\n  Hmm-mmm\n\n  Yeah, yeah\n  A couple of years ago, before the year nine-fo'\n  My cash flow was low, I was low on dough\n  Used to try to talk to fly girls, and they was like: No!\n  I knew that all of that'd change once I started to blow\n  Now my pockets are bloated, because I exploded\n  Stay devoted, dropped a hot album, now I'm loaded\n  I hang with fly stars, buy cars, for fifty-thou'\n  The New York City child, thug with a pretty smile\n  I love this rap game, that's why I married it\n  It's a big load, but somebody gots to carry it\n  At one point I was about to give up\n  Then got offered a record deal, and my eyes lit up\n  In 1992, boo, my dream came true\n  First I got the fame, then the cream came through\n  Word up, I used to rhyme all the time\n  Whoever thought that slim kid from one-three-nine'd\n  Shine down the line, huh?\n  I used to sell cracks, now I sell tracks\n  Listen up, cause when L raps, he tell facts\n  I'm the type of cat to lay wack MCs to rest\n  I was told to work hard to achieve success\n  Words of wisdom from my father\n  He said: L, when things ain't going so well\n  Don't give up, try harder\n  And never be afraid to make mistakes\n  And don't spend your cash foolishly, save your papes\n  Cause good things come to those who wait they turn\n  Stay concerned, cause it's a lotta papes to earn\n  And help those that's less fortunate than you\n  And stay true to whatever you do, until you're through\n\n  Yo, uhh\n  O.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\n  O.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\n  To rock like I do, it takes certain zest\n  I'm truly untouchable, like Elliot Ness\n  See, my word and verse is fly. One moment tranquil\n  Then the next minute it goes with the strength to kill\n  I can rock a party right, all night, just trust me\n  Not an MC out there who can touch me\n  Anywhere I go, young ladies, they rush me\n  When I'm on the mic, no way in hell you can hush me\n  My mere presence will leave you in awe\n  And when I'm through you too will call me pa-pa\n  Now is the time to settle this vendetta\n  Slicin' MCs like a Swiss-cheese shredda\n  If you don't like Swiss, then I cut you like chedda\n  Thick, slow and quick, great pain it will inflict\n  The beat's on time and the cuts all click\n  Elegant, never meant, I loves to invent\n  If you heard me say I rock, this is what I meant\n  I don't shriek, I speak, I could never be weak\n  I got the crowd overwhelmed with my rap mystique\n  I'm shrewd, never booed, I wear the MC crown\n  When I step in the place, MCs, they bow down\n  Suckas I will smash, they're not fit for the class\n  Yo, when we get on the mic, they break out like a rash\n  Cause my sonic, atomic MCs get moronic\n  Chillin' with Big L, we like: It's bionic\n  Charismatic, emphatic, bass has no static\n  Strungin' off the rhyme like a cocaine addict\n  Nothing but cheers, call O.C. the leader\n  Def rhyme writer, fake MC defeater\n  Girlfriend said you're sweet, but I'm sweeter\n  I'll slay any MC in this rappin' arena\n  Colossal, not a fossil, MCs are quite docile\n  Teach what I'm preaching, you can call me an apostle\n  Tall, not short, dog, and this is the sport\n  I'm a soldier with the mic, and I'm guarding my fort\n  And MCs are no bigger than my big toe\n  And I get higher rating than The Cosby Show\n  When I recite my rhyme, just for you, my friend\n"},{"id":37833809,"name":"Blackout Rap Show Freestyle '97 Feat. Big L","trackName":"Blackout Rap Show Freestyle '97 Feat. Big L","artistName":"O.C.","albumName":"The O-Zone Files: Rare Demos and Unreleased Tracks","duration":417.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I be puffin' blunts in the house, hittin' stunts on the couch\nThis year, crazy cats gon' get punched in they mouth\nWhen your wife see me, she don't know how to act\nSo don't be mad when I blow out her back; for real\nYour whole crew's a buncha poo butts, made a few bucks\nJ'd a few sluts,\nthen ya'll started runnin' your lips a little too much\nGot chedda to blow, pockets never get low\nChickens sweat me wherever I go\nMe and O.C. be in the Lex', Cartier specs, Nautica sweats\nGore-Tex, with Presidentials on, full of baguettes\nI done sold coke, sold crack, sold smoke, sold smack\nNow I wanna gold plaque, can I get a soul clap?\nSome cats be col' wack\nYou got the lye? Well brother, roll that\nAnd if it won't get me high, then hold that\nI'mma cop me a six, and cruise through the block with your trick\nI'mma keep droppin' them hits, it won't stop 'til I'm rich\n\nAny mic I hold in the grip of my palm\nI wave it over the crowd, dictating shit like Genghis Khan\nNonchalantly deliver the flow like drug traffic\nScolding, bringing somatic to this rap shit\nBona fide. Mic set, you can't see me on it\nMaster the art, so now I just flaunt it\nBorn to live a life and die, but 'til then\nI'mma keep on writing slick rhymes with the pen\nI take the cherry from a beat like a virgin havin' innocent\nBust my nut, bring rhyme to life like Genesis\nPoetical renaissance, endeavors are flawless\nTearing it up when it comes to me picking up this cordless\nOne of New York's finest\nOn this trip, I coincide with Beatminerz\nBringing out the best in me\nWe formulatin' like a recipe\nWater and dough, we sho' 'nuff\nBestow my presence\nThen I'm divine like the seven\nKeeping it tight, cause what I suffice is raw nigga\nIt's only right\n\nLike that, y'all\n\nIt's like that, y'all\n\nOn the Blackout Rap show, with my man Phat Phillie\nCheck it out, uhh\nWe about to get into a verse like this\nCheck me out, y'all\n\nHmm-mmm\n\nYeah, yeah\nA couple of years ago, before the year nine-fo'\nMy cash flow was low, I was low on dough\nUsed to try to talk to fly girls, and they was like: No!\nI knew that all of that'd change once I started to blow\nNow my pockets are bloated, because I exploded\nStay devoted, dropped a hot album, now I'm loaded\nI hang with fly stars, buy cars, for fifty-thou'\nThe New York City child, thug with a pretty smile\nI love this rap game, that's why I married it\nIt's a big load, but somebody gots to carry it\nAt one point I was about to give up\nThen got offered a record deal, and my eyes lit up\nIn 1992, boo, my dream came true\nFirst I got the fame, then the cream came through\nWord up, I used to rhyme all the time\nWhoever thought that slim kid from one-three-nine'd\nShine down the line, huh?\nI used to sell cracks, now I sell tracks\nListen up, cause when L raps, he tell facts\nI'm the type of cat to lay wack MCs to rest\nI was told to work hard to achieve success\nWords of wisdom from my father\nHe said: L, when things ain't going so well\nDon't give up, try harder\nAnd never be afraid to make mistakes\nAnd don't spend your cash foolishly, save your papes\nCause good things come to those who wait they turn\nStay concerned, cause it's a lotta papes to earn\nAnd help those that's less fortunate than you\nAnd stay true to whatever you do, until you're through\n\nYo, uhh\nO.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\nO.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\nTo rock like I do, it takes certain zest\nI'm truly untouchable, like Elliot Ness\nSee, my word and verse is fly. One moment tranquil\nThen the next minute it goes with the strength to kill\nI can rock a party right, all night, just trust me\nNot an MC out there who can touch me\nAnywhere I go, young ladies, they rush me\nWhen I'm on the mic, no way in hell you can hush me\nMy mere presence will leave you in awe\nAnd when I'm through you too will call me pa-pa\nNow is the time to settle this vendetta\nSlicin' MCs like a Swiss-cheese shredda\nIf you don't like Swiss, then I cut you like chedda\nThick, slow and quick, great pain it will inflict\nThe beat's on time and the cuts all click\nElegant, never meant, I loves to invent\nIf you heard me say I rock, this is what I meant\nI don't shriek, I speak, I could never be weak\nI got the crowd overwhelmed with my rap mystique\nI'm shrewd, never booed, I wear the MC crown\nWhen I step in the place, MCs, they bow down\nSuckas I will smash, they're not fit for the class\nYo, when we get on the mic, they break out like a rash\nCause my sonic, atomic MCs get moronic\nChillin' with Big L, we like: It's bionic\nCharismatic, emphatic, bass has no static\nStrungin' off the rhyme like a cocaine addict\nNothing but cheers, call O.C. the leader\nDef rhyme writer, fake MC defeater\nGirlfriend said you're sweet, but I'm sweeter\nI'll slay any MC in this rappin' arena\nColossal, not a fossil, MCs are quite docile\nTeach what I'm preaching, you can call me an apostle\nTall, not short, dog, and this is the sport\nI'm a soldier with the mic, and I'm guarding my fort\nAnd MCs are no bigger than my big toe\nAnd I get higher rating than The Cosby Show\nWhen I recite my rhyme, just for you, my friend","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout Rap Show Freestyle '97 Feat. Big L\n  artist: O.C.\n  album: 'The O-Zone Files: Rare Demos and Unreleased Tracks'\n  duration_ms: 417000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  I be puffin' blunts in the house, hittin' stunts on the couch\n  This year, crazy cats gon' get punched in they mouth\n  When your wife see me, she don't know how to act\n  So don't be mad when I blow out her back; for real\n  Your whole crew's a buncha poo butts, made a few bucks\n  J'd a few sluts,\n  then ya'll started runnin' your lips a little too much\n  Got chedda to blow, pockets never get low\n  Chickens sweat me wherever I go\n  Me and O.C. be in the Lex', Cartier specs, Nautica sweats\n  Gore-Tex, with Presidentials on, full of baguettes\n  I done sold coke, sold crack, sold smoke, sold smack\n  Now I wanna gold plaque, can I get a soul clap?\n  Some cats be col' wack\n  You got the lye? Well brother, roll that\n  And if it won't get me high, then hold that\n  I'mma cop me a six, and cruise through the block with your trick\n  I'mma keep droppin' them hits, it won't stop 'til I'm rich\n\n  Any mic I hold in the grip of my palm\n  I wave it over the crowd, dictating shit like Genghis Khan\n  Nonchalantly deliver the flow like drug traffic\n  Scolding, bringing somatic to this rap shit\n  Bona fide. Mic set, you can't see me on it\n  Master the art, so now I just flaunt it\n  Born to live a life and die, but 'til then\n  I'mma keep on writing slick rhymes with the pen\n  I take the cherry from a beat like a virgin havin' innocent\n  Bust my nut, bring rhyme to life like Genesis\n  Poetical renaissance, endeavors are flawless\n  Tearing it up when it comes to me picking up this cordless\n  One of New York's finest\n  On this trip, I coincide with Beatminerz\n  Bringing out the best in me\n  We formulatin' like a recipe\n  Water and dough, we sho' 'nuff\n  Bestow my presence\n  Then I'm divine like the seven\n  Keeping it tight, cause what I suffice is raw nigga\n  It's only right\n\n  Like that, y'all\n\n  It's like that, y'all\n\n  On the Blackout Rap show, with my man Phat Phillie\n  Check it out, uhh\n  We about to get into a verse like this\n  Check me out, y'all\n\n  Hmm-mmm\n\n  Yeah, yeah\n  A couple of years ago, before the year nine-fo'\n  My cash flow was low, I was low on dough\n  Used to try to talk to fly girls, and they was like: No!\n  I knew that all of that'd change once I started to blow\n  Now my pockets are bloated, because I exploded\n  Stay devoted, dropped a hot album, now I'm loaded\n  I hang with fly stars, buy cars, for fifty-thou'\n  The New York City child, thug with a pretty smile\n  I love this rap game, that's why I married it\n  It's a big load, but somebody gots to carry it\n  At one point I was about to give up\n  Then got offered a record deal, and my eyes lit up\n  In 1992, boo, my dream came true\n  First I got the fame, then the cream came through\n  Word up, I used to rhyme all the time\n  Whoever thought that slim kid from one-three-nine'd\n  Shine down the line, huh?\n  I used to sell cracks, now I sell tracks\n  Listen up, cause when L raps, he tell facts\n  I'm the type of cat to lay wack MCs to rest\n  I was told to work hard to achieve success\n  Words of wisdom from my father\n  He said: L, when things ain't going so well\n  Don't give up, try harder\n  And never be afraid to make mistakes\n  And don't spend your cash foolishly, save your papes\n  Cause good things come to those who wait they turn\n  Stay concerned, cause it's a lotta papes to earn\n  And help those that's less fortunate than you\n  And stay true to whatever you do, until you're through\n\n  Yo, uhh\n  O.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\n  O.C.'s illin', I will never, ever bore you\n  To rock like I do, it takes certain zest\n  I'm truly untouchable, like Elliot Ness\n  See, my word and verse is fly. One moment tranquil\n  Then the next minute it goes with the strength to kill\n  I can rock a party right, all night, just trust me\n  Not an MC out there who can touch me\n  Anywhere I go, young ladies, they rush me\n  When I'm on the mic, no way in hell you can hush me\n  My mere presence will leave you in awe\n  And when I'm through you too will call me pa-pa\n  Now is the time to settle this vendetta\n  Slicin' MCs like a Swiss-cheese shredda\n  If you don't like Swiss, then I cut you like chedda\n  Thick, slow and quick, great pain it will inflict\n  The beat's on time and the cuts all click\n  Elegant, never meant, I loves to invent\n  If you heard me say I rock, this is what I meant\n  I don't shriek, I speak, I could never be weak\n  I got the crowd overwhelmed with my rap mystique\n  I'm shrewd, never booed, I wear the MC crown\n  When I step in the place, MCs, they bow down\n  Suckas I will smash, they're not fit for the class\n  Yo, when we get on the mic, they break out like a rash\n  Cause my sonic, atomic MCs get moronic\n  Chillin' with Big L, we like: It's bionic\n  Charismatic, emphatic, bass has no static\n  Strungin' off the rhyme like a cocaine addict\n  Nothing but cheers, call O.C. the leader\n  Def rhyme writer, fake MC defeater\n  Girlfriend said you're sweet, but I'm sweeter\n  I'll slay any MC in this rappin' arena\n  Colossal, not a fossil, MCs are quite docile\n  Teach what I'm preaching, you can call me an apostle\n  Tall, not short, dog, and this is the sport\n  I'm a soldier with the mic, and I'm guarding my fort\n  And MCs are no bigger than my big toe\n  And I get higher rating than The Cosby Show\n  When I recite my rhyme, just for you, my friend\n"}]