Funeral Service Music

Текст песни Fabolous Feat. Kobe, Paul Cain, Red Cafe & Willie The Kid - Funeral Service Music

(Intro: DJ Drama & Fabolous)

Funeral service music! (Uhh, uhh) that nigga's lyrics sound like he passed away, I'm sending a hearse..

(Uhh). Hahahaha. Ahh, man. Street fam AMG!

(Uhh). hakeem

You know talking shit right!hakeem (Right). Now funerals, those shits 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 bitch in every
I picked you up, I knocked you down, get the picture Carrie
I get you buried, Trey Ocho speci
Fuck it, I dig the hole, I'm so Joe Pesci
Goodfellas shit, rose gold Presi
Kush in attendance, Rose moe presi
If they don't like yo' boy, those hoes lezzy
We lucille ball, and blow those dessies, (heh, heh, heh)
Yeah, Ricky Ricardo, sit in the car though
Matte black Gallardo, Freck tell em our dough, match Wells Fargo
Ten gees in every pocket, and we wearing cargos
Hit them with the hook like killah Kareem on em
Or barcode niggas, put that red beam on em
At baggage claim, Louie luggage, like a ? on em
Semi with me too, coming to America
Coming through with Erica, her style head shot em
My bitch won't miss em, her swag red dot em
Her shoe game, something need to be said bout em
Santa Claus pants, yeah, that's them red bottoms
Her ex used to get em 'til the feds got him
Story made a cover, y'all probably read bout him
(Hook: Kobe)
Cuz we do it, ain't worry bout the next nigga, we got that cheese
Cuz we do it, you're now rocking with the best nigga, and that's on me
Cuz we do it
I do it, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, I do it, yeah, yeah
Don't worry leave it to me, it ain't no sweat I can do it

(Verse 2: Paul Cain)
You know me, in all black like I'm in a funeral
Black Louies, black True's, the usual
I don't mourn life, I celebrate your death
Take too long, to more accelerate your death
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 the squeezin
Take him on a long ride, spark him in the car 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
Nigga, it's the funeral, bury him with a black rose

(Hook: Kobe)
(Verse 3: Red Cafe)
Blood on my apron, blood on my guillotine
Body on the patio, torch it, kerosene
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 A team
Real spit, when drama unfold
Sucker shit 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 booths, 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 pico de gallo
Knife work awful, gun work awful
Jig you, then you bye, bye, just another barcode
Hustler but through rap I get hella cheques
Street patriot, I get Bill Belichicks
Phone tapped, but fuck it I still promote crack
Audio crack, uncut coke rap
Strapped with Taurus or Berettas
Pop, pop, body fly high, no feathers
(Hook: Kobe)

(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 nigga certainly superb with the verbage
Dead niggas, embalming fluid 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 niggas in suits, like Farrakhan students
This a funeral, finna be a burial
Matter of fact, cremate you bastards, scatter ashes
Close caskets, handing out gas masks
Willie The Kid, biblical flow, book of Damascus
Rest in peace, niggas

(Outro: DJ Drama)

I'm not laughing, (yeah) I'm trynna keep from crying, man
All of you niggas dead man, it's so sad, it's so sad..