Big L feat. Jay-Z - 7 minute freestyle | Текст песни

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• Big L feat. Jay-Z
• 7 minute freestyle

Yo, I got slugs for snitches, no love for bitches
Putting 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 beating em with smoking gats
Leaving 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 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 volts
For selling pounds of coke
Front in this town and get a tech stuck down your throat
I'm telling 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 hotty 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 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 facelift
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 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 whyle town
You know my style clown, so bow down
Word up
'95 style... I got my man Jay-Z here

[Verse 2: Jay-Z]
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 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, 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, till 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 popping Crystal, shooting game like missiles
As projected all ho's affected by this style
I mack like Goldie, go back like the oldie
But the goody
Pulling R&B bitches wearing hoodies
They don't be knowin the way I be flowing
When I be going, I be running the track like Jesse Owens
I disrupt the natural scheme, the way that you do things with a swing
And have em rocking 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 understanding I'm landing blows
And knocking sense into those that oppose me
Enticing 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 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, beating me will never come like a nun or tomorrow
I'm too thorough, nigga
I make moves, cause bowels to move
Whe

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