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Notorious B.I.G. ~ Warning
| {*sound of a pager going off*} [Notorious B.I.G.] Who the fuck is this? Pagin me at 5:46 in the mornin, crack of dawn an' {*dialing phone*} now I'm yawnin - wipe the coals out my eye {*ring*} See who's this pagin me - and why It's my nigga Pop from the barbershop Told me he was in the gamblin spot, and heard the intricate plot of niggaz wanna stick me like flypaper neighbor Slow down love, please chill, drop the caper Remember them niggaz from the hill up in Brownsville? That you rolled dice wit, smoked the blunts and got nice wit Yeah my nigga Fame up in Prospect Nah they're my niggaz nah love wouldn't disrespect I didn't say them, they schooled me to some niggaz that you knew from back when, when you was clockin minor figures Now they heard you blowin up like nitro And they wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slow So - thank Fame for warnin me cause now I'm warnin you I got the mac nigga tell me what you gonna do [Chorus] Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper [Notorious B.I.G.] They heard about the Rolex's and the Lexus with the Texas license plates outta state They heard about the pounds you got down in Georgetown And they heard you got half of Virginia locked down They even heard about the crib you bought your moms out in Florida The fifth corridor -- -- call the coroner! There's gonna be a lot of slow singin, and flower bringin if my burgular alarm starts ringin Whatcha think all the guns is for? All purpose war, got the Rottweilers by the door And I feed 'em gunpowder, so they can devour the criminals, tryin to drop my decimals Damn! Niggaz wanna stick my for my cream And it ain't a dream, things ain't always what it seem It's the ones that smoke blunts witcha, see your picture Now they wanna grab the guns and come and getcha Betcha Biggie won't slip I got the calico with the black talons loaded in the clip So I can rip through the ligaments Put the fuckers in a bad prediciment, where all the foul niggaz went Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta Fuck what I'ma hit you with you motherfuckers betta duck I bring pain, bloodstains on what remains of his jacket - he had a gun he shoulda packed it Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket So I can reload and EXPLODE on ya rasshole I fuck around and get hardcore C-4 to ya door no beef no more nigga Feel the rough, scandalous The more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerous I don't give a fuck about you or your weak crew What you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you? I'm not gunnin, nigga I bust my gun an' hold on, I hear somebody comin... {*night air, dogs barking*} [Thieves talking] (C'mon nigga) I'm only comin to pass the gat (Just bring your motherfuckin ass on, come on) Are we gettin close, huh? (It's right over here) Are you sure this Biggie Smalls crib man? (Yeah I'm sure motherfucker, c'mon!) Ahh fuck - it better be his motherfuckin house Fuck right here.. This better be this motherfucker's house (Oh shit!) What, what's wrong? (It's that red dot on your head man!) What red dot? .. Oh shit! You got a red dot on your head too! {*BOTH*} Ohh shit! {*BLAM BLAM*} more free lyrics |