Big Punisher – Hot 97 Freestyle lyrics

Dj*Scratches (Bronx*

Queens) Yeah
Uhh, No
Doubt (Yeah
Big Pun) Yeah
Yeah No Doubt Yeah
Lets Get It On Yeah
Freestyles
(Hot
97) Hot
97 Uhh
Ay-yo

my murderous rap verbal attack is actual fact Tactical
tracks match perfectly with graphical stats Half
of you lack the magical dap of tragical rap That
tackles you back and shackles and laughs at you That's
mathematical... madness I'm on the, savage the, strong The
marriage a, bond of havoc and song This
massacre's on as if Picasso laced you There's
lotsa hateful skeletons locked In
the closet of my castle of Grayskull I'm
possum at grade school that's, how I have to debate you Raps
are like cables snatchin', you fatal That's
how master degrades you I'm
battlin' Jesus if he passes through my label Snatchin'
his halo God
I pray that you send my father back as an angel Language
is fatal and it's hypnotizin' I'm
only emphasizin' I'm, still all about business and enterprisin' I'm
super lyrical a, brain boosts the chemicals That's
used contenicals inside of my mental projectable Just

call me Baby Jesus cuz lately niggaz is praisin' me Just
for the way I blaze to be crazily tape, to CD lasery It
pays to be amazingly flavery Gaze
Into my eyes that basically hypnotize you occasionally Plus
I'm hard to talk to if, you live I probably thought you stalked you Where
you walked to at night caught, you then tried to extort you New
York niggaz is trigger happy Pataki, scared This
town ain't big enough for both of us (And we ain't Goin' Nowhere) There
it is plain, and simple like Jigga my game is mental While
slow niggaz better know I blow their brains out they temples I'm
into black magical torture romantic dramatical author Compatible
with the average New Yorker A
fast talker like, Tony when gas whores I'm the masked enforcer Out
for the cash and the cho-cha Smash
the coca bottle, it up watch the fiends gobble it up If
I roll up you, do what Swallow? the stuff I
don't give a fuck any more I'm, only twenty-four years old And
I've already broken every law I'm
horrorcore this, is for the heads Runnin
up in your crib knot, if you still hot in under the bed (Yeah)

yeah one more yo I'm, gonna give one more for Montana Yo
yo yo Yo
yo yo Ay-yo

I shatter dreams like Jordan assault, and batter your team Your
squadron'll be barred from rap like Adam & Eve from the garden I'm
carvin' my initials on your forehead So
every night before bed you see the "BP" shine off the (board head) Reverse
that I, curse at the first wack nigga with the worst rap Cuz
he ain't worth jack Hit
'em with a thousand pounds of pressure per slap Make
his whole body jerk back watch, the earth crack Hand
him his purse back I'm
the first Latin rapper to baffle your skull Master
the flow niggaz, be swearin' I'm blacker than coal Like
Nat King I, be rapping and tongue's packing The
ones magnums, cannons, and gatling guns It's
Big Pun The! one and only son of Tony Montana... You
ain't promised manana in the rotten manzana C'mon-pana
we need more rhymers Feel
the marijuana snake bite anaconda I'm
in Ivana with wine-a try, to match my persona Sometimes
rhymin' I blow my own mind like Nirvana Comma
and, go the whole nine like Madonna Go
try to find another rhymer with my kinda gramma