The Notorious B.I.G. - New York lyrics

Big L: I drink Moet not Beck's beer, I stay dressed in slick gear Peace to my homies in the gangsta lean, I see you when I get there And it's a fact I keep a gat in my arm reach I charm freaks and bomb geeks from here to Palm Beach I'm puttin rappers in the wheelchair, Big L is the villain You still fear, cause I be hangin in Harlem and my sh** is for real here If you battle L you picked the wrong head I smash mics like cornbread, you can't k** me I was born dead And I'm known to pull steel trigs and k** pigs I run with ill kids and real nigs who peel wigs My rap's steady slammin, I keep a heavy cannon It's a new sherriff in town, and it ain't Reggie Hammond 2Pac: Now sh**'s constantly hot, on my block, it never fails to be gunshots Can't explain a mother's pain, when her son drops Black male slipping in hail when will we prevail Fearing jail but crack sales got me living well And the system's suicidal with this Thug's Life Staying strapped forever trapped in this drug life God help me, cause I'm starving, can't get a job So I resort to violent robberies, my life is hard Can't sleep cause all the dirt make my heart hurt Put in work and shed tears for my dead peers Mislead from childhood where I went astray Till this day I still pray for a better way Can't help but feel hopeless and heartbroke From the start I felt the racism cause I'm dark Couldn't quit the bullsh** make me represent Hit the bar and played the star, everywhere I went In my heart, I felt alone out here on my own I close my eyes and picture home Big L: Aiyyo, you betta flee Hobbes, or get your head flown three blocks L keep rapper's hearts pumpin like Reeboks And every year I gain clout and my name sprouts Some brothers'd still be vergins if the crack never came out I got the wild style, always been a foul child My guns go boom-boom, and yo' guns go wow-pow I'm known to have a hottie open, I keep the shottie smokin Front and get half the bones in your body broken And when it comes to gettin nookie I'm not a rookie I got girls that make that chick Toni Braxton look like Whoopie I run with sturdy clicks I'm never hittin dirty chicks Got thirty-five bodies, Buddy don't make it thirty-six Biggie: I know how it feel to wake up f**ed up Pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell People look at you like youse the user Selling d** to all the losers, mad buddha abuser But they don't know about your stress-filled day Baby on the way mad bills to pay That's why you drink Tanqueray; so you can reminisce And wish, you wasn't livin so devilish, sssh** I remember I was just like you Smokin blunts with my crew, flippin over 62's Cause G-E-D, wasn't B-I-G I got P-A-I-D, that's why my moms hate me She was forced to kick me out, no doubt Then I figured out nicks went for twenty down South Packed up my tools for my raw power move Glock nineteen for casket and flower moves For chumps tryin to stop my flow And what they don't know will show on the autopsy Went to see Papi, to cop me a brick Asked for some consignment and he wasn't tryin to hear it Smoking mad Newports cause I'm due in court For an a**ault, that I caught, in Bridgeport, New York Catch me if you can like the Gingerbread Man You better have your gat in hand, cause man Jadakiss: Uh, I learnt the game, I know what I want and I'm in it The time is now, it's gonna be up in a minute You look a ***** in the eye, you could tell if he tinted These fake rappers gettin by with these hell of a gimmicks They act like it's all love, only love is your money So when it's over *****, are you a thug or a dummy I'm neither, but I been hot so long, it feels like I got a lifetime fever And I ain't gotta spit, I could cough and still eat ya And f*** rap I make mills of reefer I'm a man first, tired of punchin *****z, so I'mma shoot *****z cuz my hands hurt And God is great, guard ya space One hand wash the other, both wash the face And I head crack so much, it's hard to ace .38 revolver flow, its hard to trace, what! Fat Joe: n***a I can see the coke in your nose This ain't a movie, even he got his head blown on the globe And I was just about to find God But now that Mase is back, I think I'd much rather find a menage And everybody talkin crazy how they're AK spit But we know this investigatin, and they ain't spray sh** Not me, I'm the truth homie, got the industry shook like "Naw n***a, Joe gonna let em loose on me" True Story, I'm bringin the T back Even Roy Jones was forced to "Lean Back" My n***a Dre said grind cook Now we k**in them hard n***as, who said I must of found Pun's rhyme book Got b**hes on top of the Phantom And the pinky got bling, like the ring around Saturn Cook coke, crack, n***as fiend for that And you already know the x is where the team be at