98 Freestyle - 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!