Warning - 2007 Remaster

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
 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 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
 Man, I'm comin' as fast as I can
 Just g- bring your motherfuckin' ass on, come on
 Are we gettin' close, huh?
 It's right over here
 You sure it's Biggie Smalls crib, man?
 Yeah, I'm sure, motherfucker, come on
 Man, fuck, this better be his motherfuckin' house
 Fuck, right here
 Tsk, 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
 Oh shit!