Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Warning, artist - Fun Lovin' Criminals. Date of issue: 17.01.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Warning |
| Who the fuck is this? |
| Paging me at 5: 46 |
| In the morning, crack of dawn and |
| Now I’m yawning, wipe the cold out my eye |
| See who’s this paging me and why? |
| It’s my BLEEP, Pop, from the barbershop |
| Told me he was in the gambling spot and heard the intricate plot |
| Of BLEEP wanna stick me like flypaper, neighbor |
| Slow down love, please chill, drop the caper |
| Remember them BLEEP from the hill up in Brownsville |
| That you rolled dice with, smoked blunts and got nice with? |
| Yeah my BLEEP Fame up in Prospect |
| Nah them my BLEEP nah love wouldn’t disrespect |
| I didn’t say them, they schooled me to some BLEEP |
| That you knew from back when, when you was clocking minor figures |
| Now they heard you’re blowing up like nitro |
| And they wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slow |
| So, thank Fame for warning me 'cause now I’m warning you |
| I got the MAC, BLEEP tell me what you gonna do |
| Damn, BLEEP wanna stick me for my paper |
| They heard about the Rolex’s and the Lexus |
| With the Texas license plate 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 |
| Frank, call the coroner! |
| There’s gonna be a lot of slow singing and flower bringing |
| If my burglar alarm starts ringing |
| 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 trying to drop my decimals |
| Damn, BLEEP 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 Talons loaded in the clip |
| So I can rip through the ligaments |
| Put the fuckers in a bad predicament, where all the foul BLEEP 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 BLEEP |
| 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 running, BLEEP I bust my gun and |
| Hold on, I hear somebody coming |
| I’m only cornin' 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 MC Large’s 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? |
| (What's that red dot on your head man!) |
| What red dot? |
| Oh shit! |
| You got a red dot on your head too! |
| Ohh shit! |