Testo Warning - 2016 Remaster - The Notorious B.I.G.
Testo della canzone Warning - 2016 Remaster (The Notorious B.I.G.), tratta dall'album Bad Boy 20th Anniversary Box Set Edition
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...
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 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 don't give a fuck about you or your weak crew
What you gonna do when big poppa comes for you
I'm not runnin, nigga I bust my gun in
Hold on I hear somebody comin...
Credits
Writer(s): Burt F. Bacharach, Christopher Wallace, Hal David, Osten S. Jr. Harvey
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