Big L – New York Lyrics

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Big L:
I drink Moet not Beck's beer, I stay dressed in slick gear
Peace to my homies in the gangsta lean, I see you when I get there
And it's a fact I keep a gat in my arm reach
I charm freaks and bomb geeks from here to Palm Beach
I'm puttin rappers in the wheelchair, Big L is the villain
You still fear, cause I be hangin in Harlem and my shit is for real here
If you battle L you picked the wrong head
I smash mics like cornbread, you can't kill me I was born dead
And I'm known to pull steel trigs and kill pigs
I run with ill kids and real nigs who peel wigs
My rap's steady slammin, I keep a heavy cannon
It's a new sherriff in town, and it ain't Reggie Hammond

2Pac:
Now shit's constantly hot, on my block, it never fails to be gunshots
Can't explain a mother's pain, when her son drops
Black male slipping in hail when will we prevail
Fearing jail but crack sales got me living well
And the system's suicidal with this Thug's Life
Staying strapped forever trapped in this drug life
God help me, cause I'm starving, can't get a job
So I resort to violent robberies, my life is hard
Can't sleep cause all the dirt make my heart hurt
Put in work and shed tears for my dead peers
Mislead from childhood where I went astray
Till this day I still pray for a better way
Can't help but feel hopeless and heartbroke
From the start I felt the racism cause I'm dark
Couldn't quit the bullshit make me represent
Hit the bar and played the star, everywhere I went
In my heart, I felt alone out here on my own
I close my eyes and picture home

Big L:
Aiyyo, you betta flee Hobbes, or get your head flown three blocks
L keep rapper's hearts pumpin like Reeboks
And every year I gain clout and my name sprouts
Some brothers'd still be vergins if the crack never came out
I got the wild style, always been a foul child
My guns go boom-boom, and yo' guns go wow-pow
I'm known to have a hottie open, I keep the shottie smokin
Front and get half the bones in your body broken
And when it comes to gettin nookie I'm not a rookie
I got girls that make that chick Toni Braxton look like Whoopie
I run with sturdy clicks I'm never hittin dirty chicks
Got thirty-five bodies, Buddy don't make it thirty-six


Biggie:
I know how it feel to wake up fucked up
Pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell
People look at you like youse the user
Selling drugs to all the losers, mad buddha abuser
But they don't know about your stress-filled day
Baby on the way mad bills to pay
That's why you drink Tanqueray; so you can reminisce
And wish, you wasn't livin so devilish, ssshit
I remember I was just like you
Smokin blunts with my crew, flippin over 62's
Cause G-E-D, wasn't B-I-G
I got P-A-I-D, that's why my moms hate me
She was forced to kick me out, no doubt
Then I figured out nicks went for twenty down South
Packed up my tools for my raw power move
Glock nineteen for casket and flower moves
For chumps tryin to stop my flow
And what they don't know will show on the autopsy
Went to see Papi, to cop me a brick
Asked for some consignment and he wasn't tryin to hear it
Smoking mad Newports cause I'm due in court
For an assault, that I caught, in Bridgeport, New York
Catch me if you can like the Gingerbread Man
You better have your gat in hand, cause man

Jadakiss:
Uh, I learnt the game, I know what I want and I'm in it
The time is now, it's gonna be up in a minute
You look a ***** in the eye, you could tell if he tinted
These fake rappers gettin by with these hell of a gimmicks
They act like it's all love, only love is your money
So when it's over *****, are you a thug or a dummy
I'm neither, but I been hot so long, it feels like I got a lifetime fever
And I ain't gotta spit, I could cough and still eat ya
And f*** rap I make mills of reefer
I'm a man first, tired of punchin *****z, so I'mma shoot *****z cuz my hands hurt
And God is great, guard ya space
One hand wash the other, both wash the face
And I head crack so much, it's hard to ace
.38 revolver flow, its hard to trace, what!

Fat Joe:
Nigga I can see the coke in your nose
This ain't a movie, even he got his head blown on the globe
And I was just about to find God
But now that Mase is back, I think I'd much rather find a menage
And everybody talkin crazy how they're AK spit
But we know this investigatin, and they ain't spray shit
Not me, I'm the truth homie, got the industry shook like
"Naw nigga, Joe gonna let em loose on me"
True Story, I'm bringin the T back
Even Roy Jones was forced to "Lean Back"
My nigga Dre said grind cook
Now we killin them hard niggas, who said I must of found Pun's rhyme book
Got bitches on top of the Phantom
And the pinky got bling, like the ring around Saturn
Cook coke, crack, niggas fiend for that
And you already know the x is where the team be at

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