Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Big L + Jay-Z Freestyle, artist - Jay-Z. Date of issue: 22.10.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Big L + Jay-Z Freestyle |
| Yo, I got slugs for snitches |
| 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 yoking jacks |
| And beatin them with smoking 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 lightning |
| You see what happened in my last fight friend? |
| lead pipes |
| I leave a trail 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 volts |
| For selling pounds of coke |
| Front in this town and get a tech 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 hotty stare |
| I keep a shotty near |
| It’s the nigga with notty hair who Gotti fear |
| Tracks I’m know to roast |
| Until the microphone is ghost |
| Props I own the most |
| I’m leaving niggas comatose |
| Front and get your brain pinched |
| Big L will have your whole gang lynched |
| I started smoking dust and been insane since |
| This rap shit was a great gift |
| The other night some snake riffed |
| And got a hot lead face lift |
| All through high school I had braids |
| Stabbing teachers to death that gave me bad grades |
| I cook the mic like a beef steak |
| Cause my techniques great |
| And I’m the nigga police hate in each state |
| Cause I’m the neighborhood lamper |
| 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 whyle town |
| You know my style clown, so bow down |
| Brothers can beg and borrow |
| When Jay-Z, like Zorro, get in that ass |
| I’m too much, nigga, so never should you rush |
| You need slow down, or get your ass tore down |
| Check it out, I’m too cocky |
| To stop me, you gotta kill me |
| And when I’m gone, you can still feel me |
| The shit is eternal, I rock the Heavens well |
| Even if they won’t let me in Heaven |
| I raise hell, till its Heaven |
| Recognize, the black cat with the nine lives |
| Get up off me, nigga, its bad luck to cross me |
| I’m poppin Crystal, shooting game like missiles |
| As projected, all ho’s affected by this style |
| I mack like Goldie, go back like the oldies |
| But the goody, pullin R&B bitches wearin hoodies |
| They don’t be knowin the way I be flowin |
| When I be goin, I be running the track like Jesse Owens |
| I disrupt the natural scheme |
| The way that you do things wit a swing and have em rockin like… |
| You say never you run, if ever you come |
| It’s never you run so fast in your life to never have won |
| Come on and ride the rhythm |
| I be producing like jizm |
| Just like the gods I start with knowledge and follow with wisdom |
| For greater understanding |
| I’m landing blows and |
| Knocking sense into those that oppose me, ha |
| Enticin when slicing through tracks |
| Your screaming, «Jesus Christ,"he's back |
| And God knows he can rap |
| Me and L put rhythm on the map |
| And me, I just take mine |
| Gimme those, gimme this, gimme that, fuck that |
| You never see me stressed, in a GS |
| On the prize, my greedy eyes can’t see no less |
| Even my thoughts is federal |
| Like kidnapping, extortion and corruption |
| So you know, beatin me will never come |
| Like a nun or tomorrow, I’m too thorough, nigga |
| I make moves, cause bowels to move |
| When I’m creeping through your hood with a thousand little dudes |
| Armed with a piece like Islam |
| I make your eyes rise like yeast |
| Surprise, I feel no fear when facing y’all |
| Betcha lyrics jump off the track like racing cars |
| Emcee’s trying to be the best |
| And even in dying, couldn’t be this def (death) |
| I see no reason to stop cheesin |
| Ever since L said «Throw three g’s in» |
| And we can get down and split the wealth |
| That’s when I found I could do it myself |
| My crew be deliverin hot lead when gats are clenched |
| Rappers I jack and lynch |
| Nobody can fuck with the way I be killing the shit in rap events |
| Big L is the nigga you expect |
| To catch wreck in any cassette deck |
| I’m so ahead of my time, my parents haven’t met yet |
| I’m feeling 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 Guillianni hung |
| Never had a gassed head |
| Got loot cause I stash bread |
| Try to tax and I’mma beat your fagot ass half-dead |
| I stomp white cops till the life stops |
| Cause my blood is colder than an ice box |
| you don’t want a block war |
| Cause my crew will kill a nigga from the lobby to the top floor |
| And every time a mack eleven bucks |
| I’m killing 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 ho’s is hard dick and bubble gum |
| And clown emcee’s I be attacking 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 reaching |
| So I left him sleepin with his temple leaking |
| Aight, back to my man Jay-Z |
| As soon as I grab it, I eat it up like a savage |
| And no I don’t have it, I get it together like a marriage |
| I’m seeking all rappers, I’m on my p’s and q’s and carrots |
| Y’all don’t understand, well, god-damn, don’t you know my status |
| I’m flowing the fattest, mmmm that is, mmmm, I’m the baddest |
| No need to explain my name, the only thing that matters |
| For suckers who bite me, they find I’m a bit much to swallow |
| Your thinking that’s hollow, the rhythm is too rugged to follow |
| I hit you like bam, biggity bam, bam, biggity bam |
| Let me take a little breath…god damn |
| I’m definitely destined to make eight digits |
| Met up with L on the road to riches |
| As soon as I step up, nah, whenever I’m in the, uh |
| Whatever I touch, whatever I clutch |
| You know I’m gonna end ya, uh |
| The nigga don’t play, hey, the nigga don’t play, hey |
| Hahahhhh, here I come a-g-g-gain, run, up up up in |
| Niggas are do ducking I’m boo buckin, fuck it I’m whyle |
| But a boo boo boo bam, what you niggas gonna do to the man? |
| I see you brought your little crew… and? |
| I’m still comin with velocity, check it out |
| Jid-a, id-a, wid-I, zid-e, uh huh |
| Ain’t none of the clowns fuckin around |
| Ain’t none of clowns standing their ground |
| With the crowned prince of the underground |
| Sounds like I’m ready to catch wreck now |
| The heats on sweat now |
| Jay-Z's on, be gone to the next town |
| Punk, jump up and get beat down |
| Check it out, check it out, check it out |
| Ladies be comin out of their seats now |
| Shit I got crazy skills |
| It’s a pity the way I’m ripping rugged rhythm through the city |
| Like dunnanna dunnanna di-di-dun dun ditty |
| I got rhythm, I, hit em with rhythm, I |
| Hit em and split em, I did em, I get rid of them guys |
| J-A, baby, baby please, gimme g’s |
| Baby, baby, wit crazy ease |
| Watch Jay-Z get crazy G’s |