warning lyrics – black sabbath

sound of a pager going off*}

[notorious b.i.g.]
who the f*ck 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 n*gg* pop from the barbershop
told me he was in the gamblin spot, and heard the intricate plot
of n*gg*z wanna stick me like flypaper neighbor
slow down love, please chill, drop the caper
remember them n*gg*z from the hill up in brownsville?
that you rolled dice wit, smoked the blunts and got nice wit
yeah my n*gg* fame up in prospect
nah they’re my n*gg*z nah love wouldn’t disrespect
i didn’t say them, they schooled me to some n*gg*z
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 n*gg* tell me what you gonna do

d*mn! n*gg*z wanna stick me for my paper
d*mn! n*gg*z wanna stick me for my paper
d*mn! n*gg*z wanna stick me for my paper
d*mn! n*gg*z 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
d*mn! n*gg*z 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 f*ckers in a bad prediciment, where all the foul n*gg*z went
touch my cheddar, feel my beretta
f*ck what i’ma hit you with you motherf*ckers betta duck
i bring pain, bloodstains on what remains
of his jacket – he had a gun he shoulda packed it
c*cked it, extra clips in my pocket
so i can reload and explode on ya r*sshole
i f*ck around and get hardcore
c-4 to ya door no beef no more n*gg*
feel the rough, scandalous
the more weed smoke i puff, the more dangerous
i don’t give a f*ck about you or your weak crew
what you gonna do when big poppa comes for you?
i’m not gunnin, n*gg* i bust my gun an’
hold on, i hear somebody comin…

{*night air, dogs barking*}

[thieves talking]
(c’mon n*gg*) i’m only comin to p*ss the gat
(just bring your motherf*ckin *ss 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 motherf*cker, c’mon!)
ahh f*ck – it better be his motherf*ckin house
f*ck right here.
this better be this motherf*cker’s house
(oh sh*t!) what, what’s wrong?
(it’s that red dot on your head man!)
what red dot? . oh sh*t! you got a red dot on your head too!

{*both*} ohh sh*t! {*blam blam

/ black sabbath lyrics