text: Who the fuck is this, pagin me at 5:46 in the morning?
  Crack of dawn and now Im yawnin
  Wipe the cold out my eye
  See whos this pagin me and why
  Its my nigga, Pop from the barbershop
  Told me he was in the gambling spot and heard the intricate plot
  Of niggas wanna stick me like flypaper, neighbor
  Slow down, love, please chill, drop the caper
  Remember them niggas from the hill up in Brownsville
  That you rolled dice with, smoked blunts and got nice with?
  Yeah, my nigga Fame up in Prospect
  Nah, them my niggas, nah, love, wouldnt disrespect
  I didnt say them
  They schooled me to some niggas that you knew from back when
  When you was clockin minor figures
  Now they heard youre blowin up like nitro
  And they wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slow
  So, thank Fame for warnin me, cause now Im warnin you
  I got the MAC, nigga, tell me what you gonna do
  Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my paper
  Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my paper
  Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my paper
  Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my paper
  They heard about the Rolexes and the Lexus
  With the Texas license plates out of 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!
  Theres gonna be a lot of slow singin and flower-bringin
  If my burglar alarm starts ringin
  What ya 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, niggas wanna stick me for my cream
  And it aint a dream, things aint always what it seem
  Its the ones that smoke blunts with ya, see your picture
  Now they wanna grab they guns and come and get ya
  Bet ya Biggie wont 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 predicament
  Where all the foul niggas went
  Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
  Buck what Ima hit you with, you motherfuckers better 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 your asshole
  I fuck around and get hardcore
  C-4 to your door, no beef no more, nigga
  Feel the rough, 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 come for you?
  Im not runnin, nigga, I bust my gun and
  Hold on, I hear somebody comin
  Cmon, motherfucker
  Man, Im comin as fast as I can
  Just g— bring your motherfuckin ass on, come on
  Are we gettin close, huh?
  Its right over here
  You sure its Biggie Smalls crib, man?
  Yeah, Im sure, motherfucker, come on
  Man, fuck, this better be his motherfuckin house
  Fuck, right here
  Tsk, this better be this motherfuckers house
  Oh shit
  What? Whats wrong?
  Whats that red dot on your head, man?
  What red dot?
  Oh shit! You got a red dot on your head, too
  Oh shit!