“Talkin’ bout ‘rhyme for me, L.’ Man, fuck rhymin’, cos my dick is hard enough to cut diamonds.” Clinic (Shoulda Worn a Rubber)
The diamond is commonly known one of the hardest materials on earth found in any natural deposits. I think lately people have engineered or found stuff that’s harder, but for argument’s sake let’s say the ‘diamond’ is the hardest material known to man. Big L is experiencing such a heightened state of arousal that his cock is now hard enough to cut through the hardest material known to man. Unbeknownst to the listener is whether L himself ever used said member to copulate with the pursued female partner, Joelle, earlier in the storyline. If he did, she almost certainly suffered terrible wounds and lacerations and has since been rendered unable to conceive, let alone experience a true orgasm. It truly makes one wonder about how far rappers are pushed to perform sexually by fans and “groupies” and whether L’s insatiable demon peen didn’t in some way lead to his demise. (He was shot, right? Maybe his diamond-esque sword in some way became magnetic to bullets? One can never be certain about these things.)
P.S. Big L does not want to “rhyme” for Joelle because unfortunately he’s become terribly preoccupied by anything but sex and hence will not be able to do or think about anything but until satisfaction has been reached.
“I knocked the boots from New York to Santa Fe, and that bitch burnt me like a gamma ray.” Same song, later on.
Now here L has set aside his scruples and become cantankerous in the face of a sexually transmitted disease, and though his previous chivalry has put him into this situation with Joelle, it’s now been cast aside in disgust due to that pesky predator, “Gonorrhea.” However, it seems prudent to note L’s ability to boast about knocking “the boots from New York to Santa Fe,” and admit with full candor in the following stanza that he was “burnt like a gamma ray.” Such emotional honesty balanced against stoic egotism has assuredly not been felt since Norman Mailer’s Advertisements For Myself and here we not only have the author’s pants down showcasing his manhood in all its infected glory, we have a protagonist so afflicted by circumstance that the only response he can summon up is a quick, Shakespearean revenge plot. L asserts, “Yo I’mma kill that bitch, next time that I see her,” and it’s not since the Bard that two star-crossed lovers were faced with such unfortunate miseries.
“Fuck around you’ll find my silk boxers in your mother’s hamper.”
Big L & Jay Z Freestyle
Here we return to the themes of old in which the young, spry Big L feels certain that if anyone should have the gall to challenge him or affront his person in anyway, he’ll bed their mother almost instantly. So instantly, in fact, that the proverbial you—a young man equally spry though perhaps not quite as sharp, and what’s more you often dig through your mother’s hamper (?)—will soon find L’s “silk boxers in your mother’s hamper.” This is the ultimate revenge story because the tragedy for the victim occurs long after the fact. Will you walk in on L with his hands cascading anxiously over your mother’s supple flesh? Will you see them at Denny’s late one night after seeing Liam Neeson’s newest picture? No. You will be left to stew in ignorance and curiosity as to whether these boxers, silken and inscribed with the man’s name, could possibly have reached your mother’s hamper through the depraved acts of which you dare not speak. READ MORE >