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作词 : Hal David/Notorious B.I.G./Burt Bacharach/Osten Harvey
作曲 : Hal David/Notorious B.I.G./Burt Bacharach/Osten Harvey
Who the **** is this
Pagin me at 5:46
In the morning
Crack of dawn an'
Now I'm yawnin wipe the cold out my eye
See who's this pagin me and why
It's my ***** Pop from the barbershop
Told me he was in the gamblin spot,
And heard the intricate plot
Of ****** wanna stick me like flypaper neighbor
Slow down love, please chill,
Drop the caper
Remember them ****** from
The hill up in Brownsville?
That you rolled dice wit,
Smoked blunts, and got nice wit
Yeah my ***** Fame up in Prospect
Nah they're my ****** nah love wouldn't disrespect
I didn't say dem, they schooled me to some ******
That you knew from back when,
When you was clockin minor figures
Now they heard you blowin up like nitro
And they wanna stick the knife
Through your windpipe slow
So thank Fame for warnin me cause
Now I'm warnin you
I got the mac ***** tell me what you gonna do
Damn! ****** wanna stick me for my paper
Damn! ****** wanna stick me for my paper
Damn! ****** wanna stick me for my paper
Damn! ****** wanna stick me for my paper
They heard about the Rolex's and the Lexus
With the Texas license plates 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 out in Florida
The fifth corridor
Call the coroner!
There's gonna be a lot 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 gunpowder,
So they can devour
The criminals, tryin to drop my decimals
Damn! ****** 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 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
Talons loaded in the clip
So I can rip through the ligaments
Put the ****** in a bad predicament,
Where all the foul ****** went
Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
Buck what I'm a hit you
With you ************* betta duck
I bring pain, blood stains 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 your asshole
I **** around and get hardcore
C-4 to ya door no beef no more *****
Feel the rough, scandalous
The more **** smoke I puff,
The more dangerous
I don't give a **** about you or your weak crew
What you gonna do when Big Poppa come for you?
I'm not runnin', ***** I bust my gun in
Hold on, I hear somebody comin'
I'm only comin' to pass the gat
Just bring your ************' 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 ************, c'mon!
Ahh **** it better be his ************' house
**** right here
This better be this ************'s house
Oh ****! What, what's wrong
It's that red dot on your head man!
What red dot Oh ****!
You got a red dot on your head too!
Ohh ****