• 																					{*sound of a pager going off*}

    [Notorious B.I.G.]
    Who the fuck is this? Pagin me at 5:46
    in the mornin, crack of dawn an' {*dialing phone*}
    now I'm yawnin - wipe the coals out my eye {*ring*}
    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
    of niggaz wanna stick me like flypaper neighbor
    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 they're my niggaz nah love wouldn't disrespect
    I didn't say them, 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
    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 nigga tell me what you gonna do

    [Chorus]
    Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper
    Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper
    Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper
    Damn! Niggaz wanna stick me for my paper

    [Notorious B.I.G.]
    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! Niggaz wanna stick my 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 the 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 fuckers in a bad prediciment, where all the foul niggaz went
    Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
    Fuck what I'ma hit you with you motherfuckers betta duck
    I bring pain, bloodstains 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 ya rasshole
    I fuck around and get hardcore
    C-4 to ya door no beef no more nigga
    Feel the rough, 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 gunnin, nigga I bust my gun an'
    hold on, I hear somebody comin...

    {*night air, dogs barking*}

    [Thieves talking]
    (C'mon nigga) I'm only comin to pass the gat
    (Just bring your motherfuckin 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 motherfucker, c'mon!)
    Ahh fuck - it better be his motherfuckin house
    Fuck right here..
    This better be this motherfucker's house
    (Oh shit!) What, what's wrong?
    (It's that red dot on your head man!)
    What red dot? .. Oh shit! You got a red dot on your head too!

    {*BOTH*} Ohh shit! {*BLAM BLAM*}

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