Big L 139-tony Touch Lyrics

139-tony Touch Lyrics

* send corrections to the typist







"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



Typed by: miguelv2000@hotmail.com







[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