Friday, December 15, 2023

Track selection by: Phenomenal P
98 Freestyle - Big L
Album: The Big Picture (2000)
Producer: Lord Finesse

Verse

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 niggas 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 followed you 
You was never shit, your mother should've swallowed you 
You on some tag-along, flunky 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 nothin' Butthead 
My game is vicious and cruel, 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 niggas got they whole style from? 

So what you actin' for?
You ain't half as raw, you need to practice more 
Somebody tell this nigga somethin', 'fore I crack his jaw 
You runnin' with boys, I'm runnin' with men 
I'mma be rippin' the mics until I'm a hundred-and-ten
Have y'all niggas like "Dammit, this nigga done done it again" 
I throw slugs at idiots, 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 niggas 
I might pull out this gun on your niggas 
And rob every last one of you niggas