Topic: Strike the Chorus

Lamont C. was born in Harlem, New York. He grew up at 139th Street and Lennox Avenue (The Danger Zone). For him life was agonizing and tragedy occurred daily.
He had one reason for living, which was to share his gyft with tha world.

Young L

Call him “Growin’” L…a dreamer, an exhibitionist…an Open Shell/
Wanted everythin in lyfe…Hopin “Well”, null and void…Revokin Hell/
Copin Swell, Runnin a hand…Omen Dealt, one reason…we all Know Him Well/
Childs play…caught Tokin L’s…his presence(presents)…tha Moments Dwell/
Lyfe…he had to Heavily Mend, Ev..ery Friend…Steadily Sinned/
Every obstacle Cleverly Pinned, soon “Snakes”…was he Ready for Them?/
Heavenly Grins, coincide with rotten souls…more than Seventy “Friends”/
No Beverly Inn, his moms…Readily Spent…time…servin Spaghetti from Tins/
Through prayers…Remedies Sent, runnin from Pain…which Memories Clynch/
Was he ready for “tha Game”(rap)? or was tha Game Ready for Him?/

Big L

Verbally Blessed…he could swallow “punches” and spit Words with tha Best/
A “Chronic” disease, which Herbs couldn’t Test/
Lamont Disserved Respect, felt sorry for most…Murdered tha Rest/
Neva Heard of a “Guess”…confidence…Earned him tha Crest/…
“Legendary”…his bars…Disturbingly Flexed, spit with tha “Roc”…left it Sedentary/
Now a “Go Getta”, Neva Staring…Big L, Murda M, and Killa Cam…Cleva Pairings/
Neva Sweatin’ Earrings…women could wait, it was his Time ta Shyne/
Designed sum Rhymes…Stood up, stepped out, Defined his Prime/
Blew up from 9 ta 9 (1999), Problems? About Them…his brotha is Taken ta Jail/
Releasin his Second AlBum, wonder where your Gettin’ u’r Style From…why he’s Breakin tha Scale/

"Famous L"

One Young Mornin, it was so “early”…tha Sun was Yawnin/
A man slowly approached Lamont In…his front yard…a Gun was On Him/
Just when his career had blown up…he was Among tha Daunted/
His brotha has Dun tha Offense, But he was handcuffed and Locked Away/
For once, L didn’t have A Lot ta Say, This time…verbals didn’t Stop tha Spray/
9 hits and Big L and was Popped and Laid…lifeless…on his own Prop Er Tay/
Lyfe vanished quickly…Doctors Say, but no tru rap fan could Drop tha Pain/
February 15th…a legend was Laid ta Rest, no chance to be Paid in Checks/
Nothin but Hata’s Pressed…jealousy…causin “Harlems Finest” ta Perish/
Mindless…Embarrassed, tha only emcee, where every Rhyme was Cherished/
Too bad Seconds were Missin, before Acceptance of Recognition/
Let us Envision, his Lyfe wasn’t For This…God sent tha bullet that Striked Tha Chorus/

R.I.P Lamont Coleman

His Lyfe was tha Verse, and Harlem sheltered a Good Guy/
White was tha Hurse, becuz everyone in tha Hood Dies/
Memories were tha Chorus, which bring Upon tha Tears/
Remembering tha Stories, lives on in his Song for Years/

__________________
<center> Soft Focus</center>

"I'm stuck with...what i'm Stuck Wit, cause i don't Suck Dick" - Jadakiss