Warning

Stick me for my paper

Stick me for my paper

Stick me for my paper

Who the hell is this? Pagin' me at 5:46 in the mornin'

Crack of dawn and now I'm yawnin'

Wipe the cold out my eye

See who's this pagin' me and why

It's my man Pac 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, smoke **** and got nice with?

Yeah, a little fame up in prospect

Nah, they're 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 blowin' up like nitro

And they wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slow

So thank fame for warnin' me 'cause 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 French Quarter, call the coroner

It's gonna be a lot of slow singin' and flower bringin'

If my burglar alarm starts ringin'

What you think all the **** is for?

All purpose war, got the Rottweilers by the door

And I feed 'em **** powder, so they can devour the criminals

Tryna 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 one that smoke **** with ya, see your picture

Now they wanna grab their guns and come and get ya

Bet you 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

Touched my cheddar, feel my Beretta buck

When I'ma hit you with, your first reaction is to duck

I bring pain, bloodstains on what remains of his jacket

He had the ****, he shoulda packed it, cocked it

Extra clips in my pocket

So I can reload and explode on you ****

I mess around and get hardcore

C4 to your door, no beef no more

Feel the rough, scandalous

The more **** 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'