Авторы музыки: Burt Bacharach, Easy Mo Bee, Christopher Wallace
Авторы текста: Hal David
Авторы текста: Hal David
Who the fuck is this? Pagin me at 5:46 in the mornin crack a dawnin Now I'm yawnin wipe the cold out my eye See who's this pagin me and why.. It's my nigga Pop from the barbershop Told me he was in the gamblin spot and heard the intricate plot >some niggaz wanna stick you like fly paper neighbour Slow down love please chill drop the caper >remember them niggaz from the hill up in Brownsville? >that you rolled dice wit >smoked the blunts and got nice wit Yeah my nigga Fame up in Prospect Nah dem my people nah love wouldn't disrespect >I didn't day dem, they schooled me to some niggaz >that you knew from back when, >when you was clockin minor figures >Now they heard you blowin up like nitro >know they wanna stick the knife >through your windpipe slow.. >so thank Fame for warnin me now I'm warnin you >I got the mac Biggie >tell me what you wanna do... [CHORUS] Damn niggas wanna stick me for my papers [VERSE 2] >They heard about the Rolex's and the Lexus >wit the Texas license plate outta state >they heard about the pounds >you got down in Georgetown >now 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 alot of slow singin And flower bringin If my burgular alarm starts ringin Whatcha 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 tryin to drop my decimals DAMN.. niggaz wanna stick my for my C.R.E.A.M. And in a dream things ain't always how it seems It's the ones that smoke blunts witcha See your picture, now they wanna Grab they guns and come and getcha Betcha Biggie won't slip I got the calico with the black talions loaded in the clip So I can rip through the ligaments Put they bodies in a bad prediciment Where all the foul niggas went Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta Buck with what I had you with You motherfuckers betta duck I leave stains on blood of what remains Had to jack-it, he had a gun he should've packed it Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket So I can reload and explode down ya rasshole I fuck around and get hardcore, C-4 to ya door no beef no more Feel the rush, scandalous The more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerous I dont give a fuck about you or your weak crew What you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you Start runnin, nigga I bust my gun in Hold on I hear somebody comin...