Warning (Album Version)

Warning (Album Version)

The Notorious B.I.G.

Who the fuck is this?
Pagin' me at 5:46 in the mornin'
Crack a 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
Some niggaz want to stick you 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 people 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
Now they want to stick the knife
Through your windpipe slow...
So thank Fame for warnin' me now I'm warnin' you
I got the mac nigga
Tell me what you want to do...

[CHORUS]
Damn niggas want to stick me for my paper
Damn niggas want to stick me for my paper
Damn niggas want to stick me for my paper
Damn niggas want to stick me for my paper

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
Now 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 want to stick my for my C.R.E.A.M.
And in a dream things ain't always how it seems
It's the ones that smoke blunts witcha
See your picture, now they want to
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 they bodies in a bad predicament
Where all the foul niggas went
Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
Buck with what I had you with
You motherfuckers betta duck
I leave stains on blood of what remains
Had to jack-it, he had a gun he should've packed it
Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket
So I can reload and explode down ya asshole
I fuck around and get hardcore, C4 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
Start runnin', nigga I bust my gun in
Hold on I hear somebody comin'...

Written by CRAWFORD, RAYMOND STEPHEN / HARVEY, ASTON / CANTOR, MATTHEW DAVID
Published by Universal Music Publishing Group, EMI Music Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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