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Correct 139 - Tony Touch Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: B
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Big L
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Correct 139 - Tony Touch
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Lyrics:
"Big L" --> Lord Finesse *scratched during the intro* "1-3-9" --> Notorious B.I.G. - Ten Crack Commandments [Intro: Big L] Where I'm from Yeah, Tony Touch in the house, yeah Big L Harlem on the rise, 1 3 9 You ain't know!? One love to my nigga McGruff, Mase Murda, Killa Kam Rest in peace to my man Bloodshed Live on baby, the spirit live on Yeah BBO in the house Yeah my men stand I'ma rock this shit Check it out! [Big L] Yo, I be that smooth cat you never seen rollin' with clowns One of the few from Uptown that's holdin it down Bitches be on me like I'm welfare, even rich ones that live in Bel Air, is this Big L yeah, hell yeah Word up, I use a chrome gat to push domes back Watch how you talk when you call me, Feds got my phone tapped This rap game, I put my life in it, chain got mega ice in it, push an Infinite, chrome rims, light tinted You can see pal, it's all about me now Twenty G's a show bitch three thou just to freestyle I made this cheese it didn't grow on trees Can you hold somethin? Sure, you can hold on these Yo I'm fat like the old Cray-on, smooth as Rayon L is who the ladies stay on, baby play on I stay jeweled up, pockets swelled up from banks I held up Plenty bitch-ass niggaz Big L stuck I never catch cold feet when I hold heat We roll deep, with the Triple Black dogs in their old jeep I catch a fag three o'clock in the morn On the block all alone and put the glock to his dome Tell him "Give it up quick, you nitwit, don't try to get slick Or I'm a let this four-fifth spit and leave your shit split" Prick, it ain't nothing decent about me A true thug for real, you can ask the precinct about me A rap junkie, don't try to play me like some flunky Jewels be chunky, pockets lumpy, attitude grumpy And mad niggaz be fronting the life Popping mad shit, trying to be something they not Your faggot ass better stay to dancing, don't even look at me I might break your jaw just for glancing I'm sick like Manson In '97 Harlem kids is blowing And we don't trip, we'll let a bitch starve til her ribs are showing Artist: Big L Album: Harlem's Finest - A Freestyle History Song: Stretch Debut [Big L] Word, check it out check it out check it out Bust it MC's get taught a lesson when the mic is in my posession Rap's my profession L is nice, no question It's a fact I stay geared you shouldn't beweared That I'm feared cause my raps are rougher than a nappy (?) I cook rappers like a chef I'm def like Jeff right to left My raps are better than Morgan (?) With niggaz deaths I'm the number one suspect Cause I catch much wreck specially when I'm upset Suckers I'm a stiggedystar breakin' them mother and takin' they heart You better believe Big L is a matter be rippin' the microphones apart I hold the forty right because I'm the naughty type When I strike the mic niggaz be like shorty hype I'm smoother than Velvet my lyrics is well writ' You sayin' L's this and L's that kid or L did Rhymes I create and I couch ya whole crew Battlin' me is like fightin' on the river in a phonebooth I wreck mics and rock the cool speech cause nowadays rappers think they motherfuckin' schoolteachers One two, one two, rappers I run through Fuck Corati I crack his gun fool The Big L is an assasinator I grab the mack and leave a fag leakin' like activator I'm the nigga that you never even thougth of beatin' black white or puerto rican I'm gonna slaughter each an' every crap MC that warms up when a battle comes up give me two thumbs up Peace
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