'93 Freestyle Songtext
von Big L

One-two, one-two
Kinda tired
Big L, ′bout ta get into some shit
(Uh) a'ight 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 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 bloodshed
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′ma 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

Yeah, what