Big L Freestyle (Remix)

Lyrics

[Big L] Yo, I got slugs for snitches, no love for bitches Puttin' thugs in ditches when my trigger finger itches I got a rep that make police jet, known to get a priest wet I never beg for pussy like Keith Sweat Is Big L slow? Hell no! Bitches get fucked on the roof when I ain't got no hotel dough; I'm known for yokin' Jacks And beatin' them with smokin' gats Leavin' token Blacks with broken backs and open caps So with that bullshit, step to the rear, son The last thing you want with Big L is a fair one 'Cause in a street brawl I strike men like lightnin' You seen what happened in my last fight, friend? Aight then I beat kids with lead pipes, I leave trails of dead mic's Where I'm from, niggas' jewels get ran like red lights Old folks get mugged and raided, crimes are drug-related And we live by the street rules that thugs created Clowns get smoked about a thousand folks Sellin' pounds of coke Front in this town and get a TEC stuck down your throat I'm tellin' you shit is about to get drastic soon I'm quick to blast a goon And break a motherfucker like a plastic spoon I got the looks that make your hottie stare I keep a shotty near It's that nigga with knotty hair who Gotti fear Tracks I'm known to roast until the microphone is ghost Props I own the most, I'm leavin' niggas comatose Front and get your brain pinched Big L will have your whole gang lynched I started smokin' dust and been insane since This rap shit was a great gift The other night some snake riffed, and got a hot lead facelift All through high school I had braids, I kept mad blades Stabbin' teachers to death that gave me bad grades I cook the mic like a beef steak, 'cause my technique's great And I'm the nigga police hate in each state 'Cause I'm the neighborhood lamper Punk brother vamper; fuck around You'll find my silk boxers in your mother's hamper Cops drop when my Glock makes a pow sound I'm from a wild town You know my style, clown, so bow down! Word up (say what?) '95 style (yeah) [Big L] Ayo, my crew be deliverin' hot lead when gats are clenched Rappers I jack and lynch; nobody can fuck with the way I be killin' them shits in rap events Big L is the nigga you expect To catch wreck on any cassette deck I'm so ahead of my time my parents haven't met yet I'm feelin' like Billy Bathgate My rap style is past great I love to fuck a bitch from the back and watch her ass shake I probably got your mommy strung Niggas hear me and take more notes than Connie Chung My clan plans to get Giuliani hung Never had a gassed head, got loot 'cause I stash bread Try to tax and I'ma beat your faggot-ass half-dead I stomp white cops 'til they life stops, for a low price, hops 'Cause my blood is colder than an ice box On 1-3-9 you don't want a block war 'Cause my crew'll kill a nigga from the lobby to the top floor And every time my MAC-11 bucks I'm killin' at least seven ducks I never was a follower of Reverend Butts The bitch type I dislike, I'm rougher than a fist fight All chicks ain't shit, ain't no such thing as Miss Right So we can never be a couple, hun Fuck love! All I got for hoes is hard dick and bubble gum And clown MC's I be attackin' quick I'm on some rappin' shit and some car-jackin' shit I ran up on this nigga name Mac in a black Ac' And put the gat to his cap, click-clack Sorry, Jack, but get up out of that! My .38 works great, so make a mistake and hesitate I can't wait to demonstrate this nickel plate He didn't listen to what I was speakin'; he started reachin' So I left him sleepin' with his temple leakin'