Big L and Jay-Z - 7 Minute Freestyle (LYRICS)

BIG L Big L’’s Lyrics Yo, check it 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 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? Aight then I beat kids with lead pipes I leave a trail of dead mic’s Where I’m from, niggaz 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 niggaz 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 I kept mad blades 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 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 whyle town You know my style clown, so bow down 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 Niggaz 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’ma beat your fagot ass half-dead I stomp white cops till the life stops For a low price hops Cause my blood is colder than an ice box On 1-3-9 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