Who the fuck is this?
paging me at 5:46 in the morning
crack a 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 fly paper neighbour
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
when 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
Damn niggas wanna stick me for my paper
Damn niggas wanna stick me for my paper
Damn niggas wanna stick me for my paper
“They heard about the Rolexes and the Lexus
with the Texas license plate outta 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 south 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 you think all the guns is for?
all-purpose war
got the rottweilers by the door
and I feed ’em gun powder
so they can devour
the criminals
tryna 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 smoke blunts with you
see your picture
now they wanna
grab they guns and come and get you
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 the fuckers in a bad predicament
where all the foul niggas went
Touch my cheddar
feel my Beretta
Buck what I’mma hit you with you motherfuckers better duck
I bring pain
blood stains
on what remains
Of his jacket
he had a gun he should’ve packed it
Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket
so I can reload and explode on you rasshole
I fuck around and get hardcore
C4 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 comin’
“Sh.”
“Come on motherfucker!”
“I’m comin’ as fast as I can”
“Just bring yo motherfuckin’ ass on come on!”
“Are we gettin’ close? Huh?”
“It’s right over here”
“Man, are you sure it’s Biggie Smalls crib man?”
“Yeah I’m sure motherfucker. Come on”
“Oh fuck, it better be his motherfuckin’ house”
“Fuck?”
“It 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!”
“Oh shit!”
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