Who the fuck is this?
Pagin me at 5: 46 in the mornin crack of dawnin
Now I'm yawnin, wipe the cold out my eye
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
A niggaz wanna stick me like fly paper neighbour
Slow down love please chill drop the caper
Remember them niggaz from the hill up in Brownsville?
That you rolled dice wit
Smoked blunts and got nice wit
Yeah my nigga Fame up in Prospect
Nah dem my niggaz nah love wouldn't disrespect
I didn't say dem, 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 a knife
Through your windpipe slow..
So thank Fame for warnin me 'cause now I'm warnin you
I got the Mack nigga
Tell me what you wanna do...

Damn niggas wanna stick me for my papers

[Verse 2:]
They heard about the Rolex's and the Lexus
Wit the Texas license plate 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 gun powder so they can devour
The criminals tryin to drop my decimals
Damn.. Niggaz wanna stick my for my C. Are. E. A. M.
And it ain't a dream things ain't always what it seems
It's the ones that smoke blunts witcha
See your picture, now they wanna
Grab they guns and come and getcha
Betcha Biggie won't slip
I got the calico with the black talions loaded in the clip
So I can rip through the ligaments
Put the fuckers in a bad prediciment
Where all the foul niggas went
Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
Buck what I'm hit you wit you motherfuckers betta duck
I bring paid, blood stains of what remains of his jacket,
He had a gun he should've packed it
Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket
So I can reload and explode down ya rasshole
I fuck around and get hardcore, C-4 to ya door no beef no more
Feel the rush, 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 runnin, nigga I bust my gun in
Hold on I hear somebody comin...
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Warning Lyrics

Notorious B.I.G. – Warning Lyrics

Warning lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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