• Title:Warning
  • Artist:The Notorious B.I.G.
  • Album:The Notorious B.I.G.: Greatest Hits
  • Karaoke:1★Download Synchronous LRC lyric
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    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 barbershop
    Told me he was in the gambling spot and heard the intricate plot
    Of niggas wanna stick me like flypaper, 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 my nigga Fame up in Prospect
    Nah them my niggas nah love wouldn't disrespect
    I didn't say them, they schooled me to some niggas
    That you knew from back when, when you was clocking minor figures
    Now they heard you're blowing up like nitro
    And they wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slow
    So, thank Fame for warning me 'cause now I'm warning you
    I got the MAC, nigga tell me what you gonna do
    Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my paper
    They heard about the Rolex's 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 singing and flower bringing
    If my burglar alarm starts ringing
    What ya 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 trying to drop my decimals
    Damn, niggas 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 blunts with 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 the fuckers in a bad predicament, where all the foul niggas went
    Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
    Buck! What I'ma hit you with you motherfuckers better duck
    I bring pain, bloodstains on what remains
    Of his jacket, he had a gun he shoulda packed it
    Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket
    So I can reload and explode on you rasshole
    I fuck around and get hardcore
    C-4 to your door, no beef no more nigga
    Feel the rough, 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?
    I'm not running, nigga I bust my gun and
    Hold on, I hear somebody coming
    (C'mon motherfucker) I'm only comin' to pass the gat
    (Just bring your motherfuckin' ass on, come on)
    Are we gettin' close, huh?
    (It's right over here)
    Are you sure this Biggie Smalls crib man?
    (Yeah I'm sure motherfucker, c'mon!)
    Ahh fuck, it better be his motherfuckin' house
    Fuck 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 shit!
    You got a red dot on your head too!
    Ohh shit!