Stretch & Bobbito '95 Pt. I

Big L

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    [Big L]
    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

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    [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 its Heaven
    Recognize, the black cat with the nine lives
    Get up off me, nigga, its bad luck to cross me
    I'm poppin Crystal, shooting game like missiles
    As projected, all ho's affected by this style
    I mack like Goldie, go back like the oldies
    But the goody, pullin R&B bitches wearin hoodies
    They don't be knowin the way I be flowin
    When I be goin, I be running the track like Jesse Owens
    I disrupt the natural scheme
    The way that you do things wit a swing and have em rockin 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 be producing 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, ha
    Enticin 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, beatin me will never come
    Like a nun or tomorrow, I'm too thorough, nigga
    I make moves, cause bowels to move
    When I'm creeping through your hood with a thousand little dudes
    Um. We're the peace like Islam
    I make your eyes rise like yeast
    Surprise, I feel no fear when facing y'all
    Betcha lyrics jump off the track like racing cars
    Emcee's trying to be the best
    And even in dying, couldn't be this def (death)
    I see no reason to stop cheesin
    Ever since L said "Throw three g's in"
    And we can get down and split the wealth
    That's when I found I could do it myself
    I get up

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