Warning Lyrics - Singles - Paris

Who the fuck is this? pagin me at 5: 46 in the mornin crack a dawninnow I'm yawnin, wipe the cold out my eyesee who's this pagin me and why. 

It's my nigga Pop from the barbershoptold me he was in the gamblin spot and heard the intricate plot some niggaz wanna stick you like fly paper neighbourslow down love please chill drop the caper remember them niggaz from the hill up in Brownsville? that you rolled dice wit smoked the blunts and got nice wityeah my nigga Fame up in Prospectnah dem my people nah love wouldn't disrespect I didn't day 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 know they wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slow. so thank Fame for warnin me now I'm warnin you I got the mac Biggie tell me what you wanna do... 

[CHORUS] 

Damn niggas wanna stick me for my papers 

[VERSE 2] 

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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 coronerthere's gonna be alot of slow singin and flower bringinif my burgular alarm starts ringinwhatcha think all the guns is for? all purpose war got the rottweilers by the doorand I feed em gun powder so they can devour 

The criminals tryin to drop my decimals 

DAMN. niggaz wanna 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 witchasee your picture, now they wanna 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 predicimentwhere 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 pocketso I can reload and explode down ya rasshole 

I fuck around and get hardcore, C-4 to ya door no beef no more 

Feel the rush, scandalous 

The more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerous 

I dont 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... 

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