Warning

Lyrics for Warning

Stick me for my paper Stick me for my paper Stick me for my paper Who the hell is this paging me at 5:46 in the morning? Crack of dawn and now I'm yawnin' Wipe the cold out my eye See who's this paging me and why It's my man Pop from the barbershop Told me he was in the gambling spot and heard the intricate plot Some people wanna stick me like flypaper, neighbor Slow down, love, please chill, drop the caper Remember all your peoples from the hill up in Brownsville That you rolled dice with, smoked b- and got nice with? Yeah, little Fame up in Prospect Nah, them my peoples, nah, love, wouldn't disrespect I didn't say them They schooled me to some chumps that you knew from back when When you was clockin' minor figures Now they heard you're 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, 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 paper? They heard about the Rolexes and the Lexus With the Texas license plates out of 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 burglar alarm starts ringin' What ya' 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 decimals Damn, 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 b- wit' ya', see your picture Now they wanna grab they guns and come and get ya' Bet ya', Biggie won't slip I got the Calico with the black talons loaded in the clip So I can rip through the ligaments Put they bodies in a bad predicament Where all the foul people went Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta But what I'ma hit you with, your first reaction is to duck I bring pain, bloodstains on what remains Of his jacket, he had a g-, he shoulda packed it Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket So I can reload and explode on your a- I mess around and get hardcore C4 to your 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 come for you? I'm not runnin', chump, I bust my gun and... Hold on, I hear somebody comin' C'mon, motherf- Man, I'm comin' as fast as I can Just bring your motherf- a- on, come on Are we gettin' close, huh? It's right over here You sure it's Biggie Smalls crib, man? Yeah, I'm sure, come on This better be his motherf- house F-, right here This better be this motherfucker's house Oh, shit What? What's wrong? What's that red dot on your head, man? What red dot? Oh, sh-! You got a red dot on your head, too Oh, sh-