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Verse 1: Big L |
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Yo, check it |
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Yo, I got slugs for snitches |
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No love for b1tches |
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Putting thugs in ditches when my trigger finger itches |
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I got a rep that make police jet |
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Known to get a priest wet |
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I never beg for pu22y like Keith Sweat |
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Is Big L slow, hell no |
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b1tches get fk on the roof when I ain't got no hotel dough |
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I'm known for yoking jacks |
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And beating them with smoking gats |
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Leaving token Blacks with broken backs and open caps |
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So with that bullsh1t, step to the rear son |
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The last thing you want with Big L is a fair one |
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Cause in a street brawl, I strike men like lightning |
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You see what happened in my last fight friend |
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Aight then |
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I beat kids with lead pipes |
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I leave a trail of dead mic's |
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Where I'm from, n1ggas jewels get ran like red lights |
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Old folks get mugged and raided |
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Crimes are drug related |
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And we live by the street rules that thugs created |
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Clowns get smoked about a thousand volts |
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For selling pounds of coke |
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Front in this town and get a TEC stuck down your throat |
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I'm telling you sh1t is about to get drastic soon |
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I'm quick to blast a goon |
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And break a motherfker like a plastic spoon |
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I got the looks that make your hotty stare |
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I keep a shotty near |
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It's the n1gga with knotty hair who Gotti fear |
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Tracks I'm know to roast |
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Until the microphone is ghost |
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Props I own the most |
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I'm leaving n1ggas comatose |
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Front and get your brain pinched |
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Big L will have your whole gang lynched |
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I started smoking dust and been insane since |
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This rap sh1t was a great gift |
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The other night some snake riffed |
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And got a hot lead face lift |
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All through high school I had braids |
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I kept mad blades |
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Stabbing teachers to death that gave me bad grades |
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I cook the mic like a beef steak |
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Cause my technique's great |
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And I'm the n1gga police hate in each state |
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Cause I'm the neighborhood lamper |
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Punk brother vamper |
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Fk around you'll find my silk boxers in your mother's hamper |
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Cops drop when my Glock makes a pow sound |
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I'm from a whyle town |
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You know my style clown, so bow down |
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WORD UP |
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Verse 2: Jay-Z |
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Brothers can beg and borrow |
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Still feel sorrow |
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When Jay |
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Z like Zorro get in that ass |
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Better luck tomorrow |
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I'm too much, nigga, so never should you rush |
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You need slow down, or get your ass tore down |
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Check it out, I'm too cocky |
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To stop me, you gotta kill me |
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And when I'm gone, you can still feel me |
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On the real, B |
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The shit is eternal, I rock the Heavens well |
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Even if they won't let me in Heaven |
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I raise hell, till its Heaven |
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Recognize, the black cat with the nine lives |
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Get up off me, n1gga, its bad luck to cross me |
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I'm poppin Crystal, shooting game like missiles |
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As projected, all ho's affected by this style |
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I mack like Goldie, go back like the oldies |
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But the goody, pulling R&B b1tches wearing hoodies |
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They don't be knowing the way I be flowing |
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When I be going |
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I be running the track like Jesse Owens |
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I disrupt the natural scheme |
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The way that you do things wit a swing and have em rocking like |
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You say never you run, if ever you come |
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It's never you run so fast in your life to never have won |
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Come on and ride the rhythm |
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I be producing like jizm |
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Just like the gods I start with knowledge and follow with wisdom |
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For greater understanding |
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I'm landing blows and |
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Knocking sense into those that oppose me, ha |
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Enticin when slicing through tracks |
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You're screaming, "Jesus Christ," he's back |
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And God knows he can rap |
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Me and L put rhythm on the map |
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So give him his dap |
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And me, I just take mine |
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Gimme those, gimme this, gimme that, fk that |
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You never see me stressed, in a GS |
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On the prize, my greedy eyes can't see no less |
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Jigga incredible |
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Even my thoughts is federal |
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Like kidnapping, extortion and corruption |
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So you know, beatin me will never come |
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Like a nun or tomorrow, I'm too thorough, n1gga |
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I make moves, cause bowels to move |
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When I'm creeping through your hood with a thousand little dudes |
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Um. We're the peace like Islam |
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I make your eyes rise like yeast |
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Surprise, I feel no fear when facing y'all |
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Betcha lyrics jump off the track like racing cars |
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Emcee's trying to be the best |
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And even in dying, couldn't be this def |
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I see no reason to stop cheesin |
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Ever since L said "Throw three Gs in" |
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And we can get down and split the wealth |
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That's when I found I could do it myself |
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I get up |
