Big L
Illest lyricist EVER. Best freestyle rapper to ever pick up the mic. He was gunned down in '99 after he was mistaken for his brother. Also did an ill 7 minute freestyle collabo with Jay-Z back before he broke out.
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
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
Big L by Johnny John-John Matthews August 7, 2006