Paul Cain - Funeral Service Music lyrics

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..