’98 Freestyle Songtext
von Big L
’98 Freestyle Songtext
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 expanding 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 flowing is sharp
A while back I used to hustle, selling blow in the park
Counting g stacks and rocking ice that glow in the dark
Forever hottie hunting, trigger temper I′m quick to body something
You looking at me like I'm probably fronting
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 hanging around y′all cause niggas like you
Be praying on my downfall, hoping I flop
Hoping I stop, you probably even hope I get locked
Or be on the street corner with a pipe smoking the rock
I got more riches than you, fuck more bitches than you
Only thing I haven′t got is more stitches than you
Fucking punk, you ain't a leader what, nobody followed you
You was never shit, your mother should have 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 nothing Butthead
My game is vicious and cruel Fucking 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 acting for?
You ain't half as raw, you need to practice more
Somebody tell this nigga something, before I crack his jaw
You running with boys, I′m running with men
I'm a be ripping the mics until I'm a hundred and ten
Have y′all niggas like "damn it 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 making 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
I′m from New York and never was a fan of the Knicks
And I'm all about expanding 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 flowing is sharp
A while back I used to hustle, selling blow in the park
Counting g stacks and rocking ice that glow in the dark
Forever hottie hunting, trigger temper I′m quick to body something
You looking at me like I'm probably fronting
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 hanging around y′all cause niggas like you
Be praying on my downfall, hoping I flop
Hoping I stop, you probably even hope I get locked
Or be on the street corner with a pipe smoking the rock
I got more riches than you, fuck more bitches than you
Only thing I haven′t got is more stitches than you
Fucking punk, you ain't a leader what, nobody followed you
You was never shit, your mother should have 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 nothing Butthead
My game is vicious and cruel Fucking 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 acting for?
You ain't half as raw, you need to practice more
Somebody tell this nigga something, before I crack his jaw
You running with boys, I′m running with men
I'm a be ripping the mics until I'm a hundred and ten
Have y′all niggas like "damn it 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 making 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
Writer(s): Lamont Coleman Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
