Tonalidad: C major
Verse 1
Dm
Who the is this, paging me at 5 .46 in the morning,
crack of dawning, 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
Told me he was in the gambling spot
and heard the intricate plot
A niggas wanna sip me like fly paper,
neighbor
Slow down, love, please chill,
drop the caper
Remember them niggas
from the hill up in Brownsville
that you rode dice with?
Smoke blunts and got nice wit?
Yeah, my nigga fame up in Prospect
Nah, them my niggas,
nah, love wouldn't disrespect
I didn't say them,
they school me to some niggas
that you knew from back when
When you was clocking minor figures
Nah, they heard you blowing up like nitro
And they wanna stick the knife
through your windpipe,
slow Soul Bank fame's 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 lights
and whites 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 clip
you brought your moms up
Florida, the fifth corridor, call the coroner
It'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 rockwellers by the door
And I feed them gunpowder
so they can devour
The criminals tryna drop my decimals,
damn
Niggas wanna stick me for my cream
Ain't a dream,
ain't always what it seem
It's the ones that smoke
blunts with ya,
see ya picture
Now they wanna grab their guns
and come and get ya
Bet your 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 the bap
-a -dick -a -ment
Where all the foul niggas went
Touch my cheta, feel my beretta
Fuck 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 should've packed it
Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket
So I could reload and explode
on your asshole
I fuck around and get hardcore
C4 to your door, no beef no more, nigga
Feel the rough, scare the lust
The more we 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 come for you?
I'm not runnin', nigga,
I bust my gun and
Hold on, I hear somebody
comin'
Come come come on.
I don't want to come in fast, okay?
Just bring your motherfucking
ass home, come on.
We getting close, huh?
It's right up here.
I'm sure it's Biggie's
mom's crib, man.
I'm sure, motherfucker, come on.
Oh, fuck.
It better be his motherfucking house.
Fuck. It better be his
motherfucker's house.
Oh, shit. What? What's wrong?
You got a 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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