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Warning

Who the hell is this? Pagin' me at 5:46

In the mornin', crack of dawn an'

Now I'm yawnin', wipe the cold out my eye

See who's this pagin' me and whyIt's my man Pop from the barbershop

Told me he was in the gamblin' spot and heard the intricate plot

Some people wanna stick me like flypaper neighbor

Slow down love, please chill, drop the caperRemember all you people from the hill up in Brownsville?

That you rolled dice wit, smoked the blunts and got nice wit

Yeah, little Fame up in Prospect

Nah they're my people, nah love wouldn't disrespectI didn't say them, they schooled me to some types

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 I'm warnin' you

I got the mac Biggie tell me what you gonna do?Damn, why they wanna stick me for my paper

Damn, why they wanna stick me for my paper

Damn, why they wanna stick me for my paper

Damn, why they wanna stick me for my paperThey 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 downThey 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 burglar alarm starts ringin'Whatcha think all the g*** is for?

All purpose war, got the Rottweilers by the door

And I feed 'em ***powder, so they can devour

The criminals, tryin' to drop my decimalsDamn, people wanna stick me for my cream

And it ain't a dream, things ain't always what it seem

It's the ones that smoke *** witcha, see your picture

Now they wanna grab the guns and come and getchaBetcha 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 bodies in a bad predicament, where all the foul people wentTouch my cheddar, feel my Beretta

Buck what I'ma hit you with you motherfuckers betta duck

I bring pain, bloodstains on what remains

Of his jacket he had a ** he shoulda packed itCocked it, extra clips in my pocket

So I can reload and explode on ya ***hole

I mess around and get hardcore

C-4 to ya door no beef no more ***Feel the rough, scandalous

The more w*** smoke I puff, the more dangerous

I don't give a damn about you or your weak crew

What you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you?

I'm not runnin', chump, I bust my gun an'

Hold on, I hear somebody comin'Come on n****, I'm only comin' to pass the gat

Just bring your mother*** *** 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 mother***, c'monAh fuck it better be his mother*** house

F*** right here, this better be this mother*** house

Oh s***, what, what's wrong? It's that red dot on your head man

What red dot? Oh s***, you got a red dot on your head too, oh s***

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