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-