Big L feat. Jay-Z - Back 2 Back текст песни

Текст песни 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...



Авторы: Clive Henry, Marvin Beaver, Justin Drake


Big L feat. Jay-Z - Harlem’s Finest: A Freestyle History, Volume 1
Альбом Harlem’s Finest: A Freestyle History, Volume 1
дата релиза
27-11-2001



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