paroles de chanson '98 Freestyle (Explicit) - Big L

One-two, one-two
Kinda tired.
Big l, 'bout ta. get into some shit
Aight check it out

Yo, fuck all the glamours and glitz, I plan to get rich
I'm from new york and never was a fan of the knicks
And I'm all about expandin my chips
You mad cause I was in the van with your bitch
With both hands on her tits
Corleone hold the throne, that you know in your heart
I got style, plus the way that I be flowin is sharp
A while back I used to hustle, sellin blow in the park
Countin g stacks and rockin ice that glow in the dark
Forever - hottie huntin, trigger temper I'm quick to body somethin
You lookin at me like I'm probably frontin
I fuck around and throw, three in your chest and flee to my rest
I'm, older and smarter this is me at my best
I stopped hangin around y'all, cause niggaz like you
Be prayin on my downfall, hopin I flop
Hopin I stop, you probably even hope I get locked
Or be on the street corner with a pipe, smokin the rock
I got more riches than you, fuck more bitches than you
Only thing I haven't got is more, stitches than you
Fuckin punk, you ain't a +leader+ what? nobody +follow-ed+ you
You was never shit, your mother shoulda swallowed you
(Mmmm. whoo!) you on some tagalong flunkie yes man shit
Do me a favor, please get off the next man dick
And if you think I can't fuck with whoever, put your money up
Put your jewels up, no fuck it put your honey up
Put your raggedy house up nigga, or shut your mouth up
Before I buck lead, and make a lot of blood shed
Turn your tux red, I'm far from broke, got enough bread
And mad hoes, ask beavis I get nuttin butt-head
My game is, vicious and cool
Fuckin chicks is a rule
If my girl think I'm loyal then that bitch is a fool
How come, you can listen to my first album
And tell where a lot of niggaz got they whole style from?
(Yeah!) so what you actin for?
You ain't half as raw, you need to practice more
Somebody tell this nigga sum'un, 'fore I crack his jaw
You runnin with boys, I'm runnin with men
I'ma be rippin the mics until I'm a hundred and ten
Have y'all niggaz like, 'damnit this nigga done done it again'
I throw slugs at idi-ots, no love for city cops
I sport a pretty watch, eight-hundred and fifty rocks
I'm makin wonderful figures
I don't fuck with none of you niggaz
I might pull out this gun on your niggaz
And rob every last one of you niggaz

Yeahhh! (what?)
I'm tired
For somebody tired, that wasn't, that wasn't too bad!