Lyrics Back 2 Back - Big L feat. Jay-Z
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'
Japs
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
mothafucker
like
a
plastic
spoon
I
got
the
looks
that
make
your
hottie
stare
I
keep
a
shotty
near
It′s
that
nigga
with
notty
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)
I
got
my
man
Jay-Z
here
(Jay-Z!)
Check
it
out
now...
Check
it,
check
it,
check
it
out
now
Brothers
can
beg
and
borrow,
still
feel
sorrow
When
Jay
Z,
like
Zorro,
get
in
that
ass,
better
luck
tomorrow
I′m
too
much,
nigga,
so
never
should
you
rush
You
need
slow
down
or
get
yo'
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,
on
the
real,
B
The
shit
is
eternal,
I
rock
the
heavens
well
Even
if
they
won't
let
me
in
Heaven,
I
raise
hell
′Til
it′s
Heaven;
recognize,
the
black
cat
with
the
nine
lives
Get
up
off
me,
nigga,
it's
bad
luck
to
cross
me
I′m
poppin'
Crystal,
shootin′
game
like
missiles
As
projected,
all
hoes
affected
by
this
style
I
mack
like
Goldie,
go
back
like
the
oldie
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
runnin'
the
track
like
Jesse
Owens
I
disrupt
the
natural
scheme
The
way
that
you
do
things
with
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
produce
like
jizm
Just
like
the
gods
I
start
with
knowledge
And
follow
with
wisdom
For
greater
understandin',
I′m
landin'
blows
And
knockin'
sense
into
those
that
oppose
me
Enticin′
when
slicin′
through
tracks
You're
screamin′:
"Jesus
Christ,
he's
back!"
And
God
knows
he
can
rap
Me
and
L
put
rhythm
on
the
map,
so
give
him
his
dap
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
Jigga
incredible,
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
creepin'
through
your
way
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
Bet
your
lyrics
jump
off
the
track
like
racing
cars
Emcee′s
tryin'
to
be
the
best
And
even
in
dyin′
couldn't
be
this
def
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,
I
get
up...
![Big L feat. Jay-Z - Harlem’s Finest: A Freestyle History, Volume 1](https://pic.Lyrhub.com/img/f/t/p/w/mpNomOwpTf.jpg)
1 Interview (intro)
2 Hardpack (live From 125)
3 Stretch Debut
4 Don’t Front
5 C.O.C. Style
6 Back 2 Back
7 139
8 ATL Shit
9 Round Up
10 Flamboyant 1
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