UNCLE MURDA - Warning (Remix) lyrics

rate me

Ft Mariah Carey, 50 Cent, & Young Jeezy

[Mariah Carey]

This is a warning

This is a warning, it’s been a warning

Warned you the last time, warning you once again

[Verse 1 – Uncle Murda]

Me and Mariah gettin’ money, ooh we gettin’ paper

I ain’t playin’ I ain’t playin, I’ll smack the shit outta hater

I’m the streets, I’m the gutter, ooh I’m so hood

My main chick caught me cheatin’, ooh I’m Tiger Woods

Remix after remix, ooh I got a hit

In the club feelin’ myself like ooh I’m the shit

I got Brooklyn on my back, watch how I hold it down

I got Biggie up in heaven like, ooh he makin’ me proud

I run New York right now, ooh this my town

I just woke up one mornin’, like ooh I’m wearin’ the crown

Oh they shook, oh they nervous, ooh I got ‘em scared

I’m 50 when he first came out, ending rapper careers (yeah)

[Hook - Mariah Carey]

This, this is a warning (this is a warning)

Warned you one last time, Warning you once again

[Verse 2 – 50 Cent]

E’rything cool ‘till I blackout, ooh you gone get it

Run, your back’ll be my target ooh I’m gone hit it

Niggas see me with the strap out, ooh they start snitchin’

Fuck the wrong bitch raw, then it’s oowoh when you’re pissin’

All I do is blow paper, ooh I gotta get it

Back to back, my two Ferrari’s, ooh I just shitted

Come through bumpin’ Murda, ooh I make ‘em sick

It’s a warning, I’m tired of warning ‘em kid

I tell the homies to drop ‘em, not even the D’s could stop them

Bottles and bottles we pop ‘em

They scheme, we sit there and watch ‘em

Trust me they move, or we got ‘em

Got them Gym Stars in the chopper

My niggas pull ‘em and pop ‘em, click clack now back your ass back

[Hook]

[Verse 3 – Young Jeezy]

(Lets go. Yeah. Look)

I said it’s Snow and Uncle Murda bitch (Murda bitch), call me Cousin Chopper hoe

Jizzle why they call you that?

‘Cause I let the chopper go (boom, boom, boom)

Goin’ down my shooting list, send a couple warnin’ shots (yeah)

Summers mine too bitch, I make a nigga mornin’ (lets go)

I gets money, I gets money, ooh I’m havin’ paper

Man I’m sayin fuck the plan, ooh these niggas haters (yeah)

Man they thought that I was over, I’m like ooh you niggas trippin’

I’m with Wink, Loc, and Brooklyn like, ooh these niggas crippin’ (haha)

Catch me out in Harlem like, ooh these niggas bloodin’

Man them bitches see the Roley like, whose your country cousin? (damn)

On the phone with the Game I’m like, ooh too many fakers

Keep blowin’ all this purp, they might ooh, think we the Lakers (yeah)

What’s wrong with the streets? I’m like, ooh too many snitches

All around me in the club, I’m like who? Too many bitches (yeah)

I’m just sayin, why they hatin’? I’m like ooh, they wanna be this

Snow Mizzle, Uncle Murda I’m like ooh this is the remix (what’s up)

[Hook]