ready to die
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 man Pop from the barbershop
told me he was in the gamblin spot and heard the intricate plot
some people wanna stick you like fly paper neighbour
slow down love please chill drop the caper
remember them kidz from the hill up in Brownsville
that you rolled dice wit
smoked the blunts and got nice wit
yeah my little Fame up in Prospect
nah dem my people nah love wouldn't disrespect
I didn't say dem,
you school be bout some niggas
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
you got the mac Biggie
tell me what you wanna do...
Damn niggas wanna stick me for my papers
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 clock my decimals
DAMN..niggas wanna stick my for my C.R.E.A.M.
and the inner dream things aint 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
Bethca Biggie won't slip
I got the....??
so I can rip through the intricate
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
see 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........
Writer(s): Osten Harvey, Billie Joe Armstrong, Christopher Wallace, John Moreshead, Burt Bacharach, Mark Chapman, Daniel Carter, Frank E. Iii Wright, Jason Keith Perry, Hal David, Victor Hickling, Aynsley Dunbar, Alex Dmochowski, Oscar Pka Paris Jackson, Giles Perry, Adam Perry, Michael Pritchard
Copyright: Emi April Music Inc., Music Sales Corp. O.B.O. New Hidden Valley Music, Green Daze Music, Justin Combs Publishing Company Inc., Casa David LP, Scarface Music, New Hidden Valley Music Company, Warner/Chappell Music Ltd., Big Poppa Music, Complete Music Ltd., Unichappell Music Inc., WB Music Corp.
Lyrics powered by www.musiXmatch.com
|2||me and my bitch|
Get the embed code
Note: When you embed the widget in your site, it will match your site's styles (CSS). This is just a preview!
|1||Get Your Grind On|
|2||It Has Been Said|
|3||Living The Life|
|4||Living In Pain|
|5||F**King You Tonight|
|6||Nasty Girl [Clean]|
|5||Waka Flocka Flame|
|8||Bliss N Eso|
|9||2 Live Crew|