Who the fuck is this?
Pagin' me at 5:46
In the mornin', crack of dawn and
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 gambling spot
and heard the intricate plot
Of niggas wanna stick me like flypaper,
neighbor
Slow down love,
please chill, drop the caper
Remember them niggas from
the hill up in Brownsville
That you rolled dice with, smoked
blunts and got nice with?
wouldn't disrespect
I didn't say them,
they schooled me to some niggas
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,
me for my paper
They heard about the
Rolex's 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
sin'in' and flower brin'in'
If my burglar alarm starts rin'in'
What ya think all the guns is for?
All-purpose war, war,
got the Rottweilers by the door
And I feed 'em gunpowder,
so they can devour
The criminals tryin' to drop
my decimals
Damn, niggas wanna stick
me for my cream
And it ain't a dream,
thin's ain't always what it seem
It's the ones that smoke blunts with 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 the fuckers in a bad predicament,
where all the foul niggas went
Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
Buck, what I'ma hit you with
you motherfuckers better 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 you rasshole
I fuck around and get hardcore
C-4 to your 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 runnin',
nigga I bust my gun and
Hold on, I hear somebody comin'
(C'mon motherfucker) 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?
(What's that red dot on your
head man)
What red dot?
Oh shit
You got a red dot on your head too
Ohh shit