Intro:
Funeral service music! (Uhh, uhh) that n***a's lyrics sound like he pa**ed away, I'm sending a hearse..
(Uhh). Hahahaha. Ahh, man. Street fam! ?
(Uhh). ?
You know talking sh** right!? (Right). Now funerals, those sh**s are expensive. Haha.. Ahh...
Nice
(Verse 1: Fabolous)
Yeah, I mean what I say like the dictionary
I don't write rhymes, I write obituaries
New state, new date, I got a b**h in ?
I picked you up, I knocked you down, get the picture Carrie
I get you buried, ?
f** it, I dig the hole, I'm so Joe Pesci
Goodfellas sh**, ?
Kush in attendance, ?
If they don't like yo' boy, those hoes lezzy
We loose ?, and blow those dessies, (heh, heh, heh)
Yeah, Ricky Ricardo, sit in the car door
That black Gallardo, Freck tell em ?, max Wells Fargo
Ten gees in every pocket, and we wearing cargos
Hit them with the hook like k**ah Kareem on em
Or barcode n***as, put that red beam on em
At baggage claim, Louie luggage, like a ? on em
Semi ?, coming to America, coming through with Erica
Her style head shot em, my b**h won't miss em
Her swag ? got em, her ?
Something need to be said bout em
Santa Claus pants, yeah, that's some red bottoms
Her ex used to get em 'til the feds got him
Story made a cover, y'all probably red bottom
?, ain't worry bout the next n***a, we got that ?
?, you're now rocking with the best n***a
And ? yeah
I do it, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, I do it, yeah, yeah
Don't worry leave it to me, it ain't no ?
(Verse 2)
You know me, in all black like I'm in a funeral
Black Louies, black ?, the usual
I don't mourn life, I celebrate your d**h
Take too long, to more accelerate your d**h
And the last cat that came with a squad to see him
Said he was a rider, so I parked him in the mausoleum
No witness or bystanders when I start to squeeze
Take him on a long ride, spark him, then ? leave him
Red and blue M6, Peter Parker BM
Big rims, tint's dark, you can hardly see him
Paparazzi outside o' every party we in
The boy so far gone, you can hardly see him
Different mind state, tax bracket and plateau
Six deuce s, with the curtains in the back closed
Far as rap goes, the best couldn't match flows
n***a, it's the funeral, bury him with a black rose
Hook
(Verse 3)
Blood on my apron, blood on my guillotine
Body on the patio, torture, ?
Strap make the room hot, radiator on
American gangsta, aviators on
Boss of the underworld, New York and the mainstream
Street fam certified, considered the ?
Real spit, when drama unfold
s**er sh** get broadcast, the truth untold
We raise the murder rate, that you can't avoid
Only thing similar is Philly and Illinois
Real hood work, never no sun dance
Holla to me on the ?, homie, freelance
What's your order I deliver to your dope spot
Just say mine and we smooth like botox
Money come short, I squeeze heat on arrival
Cook beef, partner, leave ?
Knife work awful, gun work awful
Jig you, then you bye, bye, just another barcode
? through rap, and get hella checks
Street patriot, and get ? checks
Phone tapped, but f** it I still promote crack
Audio crack, uncut coke rap
Strapped with Taurus or Berettas
Pop, pop, body fly high, no feathers
Hook
(Verse 4: Willie The Kid)
I said umm
Flick the headlights on the hearses
Symbol at the churches, speaking at the service
Speaking of a service, I do a disservice
And this n***a certainly superb with the verbage
Dead n***as, ? your whole movement
Money talks, I've been fluent, I'm congruent
With Ben Franklins, I'm frank, put you on to it
And put you n***as in suits, like ?
This a funeral, finna be a burial
Matter of fact, cremate you ba*tards, scather ashes
Close caskets, handing out gas masks
Willie The Kid, biblical flow, book of Damascus
Rest in peace, n***as
Outtro:
I'm not laughing, (yeah) I'm trynna keep from crying, man
All of you n***as dead man, it's so sad, it's so sad..