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Lyrics
Who the fuck is this, paging me at 5:46
In the morning, crack of dawn and, now I'm yawning
Wipe the cold out my eye
See who's this paging me, and why
It's my nigga Pop from the barber shop
Told me he was in the gambling spot and heard the intricate plots
Some niggas wanna stick you like fly paper 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
Yeah, that's my nigga Fame up in Prospect
Nah, them my niggas, nah, love, wouldn't disrespect
I didn't say them, they scooped me through some niggas
That went three from back when, when you was clocking minor figures
Now they heard you blowing up like nitro
They wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slow
So thank Fame for warning me, now I'm warning you
You got the MAC, nigga, tell me what you wanna do
Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my papers
Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my papers
Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my papers
Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my papers
They heard about the Rolexes, and the Lexus
With the Texas license plate out of state
They heard about the pounds you got down in Georgetown
Now they heard they got half of Virginia locked down
They even heard about the crib you got your moms
Out in Florida, Fifth Corridor, Frank, call the coroner
There's gonna be a lot of slow singing, and flower bringing
If my burglar alarm starts ringing
What you think all the guns is for?
All-purpose war, got the Rottweilers by the door
And I feed 'em gunpowder, so they can devour
The criminals, try to drop my decimals
Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my cream
And it ain't a dream, things ain't always what it seems
It's the ones that smoked blunts with ya, see your picture
Now they wanna grab their guns and come and get ya
Bet you Biggie won't slip
Yeah, I got the Calico with the talons loaded in the clip
So I can rip through the ligaments
Put fuckers into bad predicaments
Where all foul niggas went
Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
Fuck with what I had, you know you motherfuckers better duck
I bring pain, blood stains are what remains of his jacket
He had a gun, he should have packed it, cocked it
Extra clips in my pocket, so I can reload
And explode out your asshole
And fuck around and get hardcore
C4 by the door, no beef, no more, nigga
Feel the rush, scandalous
The more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerous
Now 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 running, nigga, I bust my gun and
Hold on, I hear someone coming
Shh, come on, motherfucker
I'm coming as fast as I can
Just bring your motherfucking ass on, come on
Are we getting close?
Yeah, it's right over there
Man, are you sure this is MC Large's crib, man?
Yeah, I'm sure, motherfucker, come on
Aw, fuck, it better be his motherfucking house
Fuck?
It better be his motherfucking house
Oh shit
What? What's wrong, man?
What's that red dot on your head, man?
What red dot?
Oh shit, you got a red dot on your head too
Oh shit