[Produced by Easy Mo Bee]

[Verse 1: The Notorious B.I.G. & Pop]
Who the fuck is this, pagin' me at 5:46 in the morning?
Crack of dawn and now I'm yawnin'
Wipe the cold out my eye
See who's this pagin' me and why
It's my n***a, Pop from the barbershop
Told me he was in the gambling spot and heard the intricate plot
Of n***as wanna stick me like flypaper, neighbor
Slow down, love, please chill, drop the caper
Remember them n***as from the hill up in Brownsville
That you rolled dice with, smoked blunts and got nice with?
Yeah, my n***a Fame up in Prospect
Nah, them my n***as, nah, love, wouldn't disrespect
I didn't say them
They schooled me to some n***as that you knew from back when
When you was clockin' minor figures
Now they heard you're 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, n***a, tell me what you gonna do

[Chorus]
Damn, n***as wanna stick me for my paper
Damn, n***as wanna stick me for my paper
Damn, n***as wanna stick me for my paper
Damn, n***as wanna stick me for my paper
[Verse 2: The Notorious B.I.G. & Pop]
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!
There's 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, n***as 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 with ya, see your picture
Now they wanna grab they guns and come and get ya
Bet ya 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 predicament
Where all the foul n***as went
Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
Buck what I'ma 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, n***a
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 come for you?
I'm not runnin', n***a, I bust my gun and
Hold on, I hear somebody comin'
[Skit]
C'mon, motherfucker
Man, I'm comin' as fast as I can
Just g— bring your motherfuckin' ass on, come on
Are we gettin' close, huh?
It's right over here
You sure it's Biggie Smalls crib, man?
Yeah, I'm sure, motherfucker, come on
Man, fuck, this better be his motherfuckin' house
Fuck, right here
Tsk, this better be this motherfucker's house
Oh shit
What? What's wrong?
What's that red dot on your head, man?
What red dot?
Oh shit! You got a red dot on your head, too
Oh shit!