Warning

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