Funeral

Текст песни Rico Recklezz - Funeral

Funeral Lyrics[Chorus]
I dropped the top on the two seater
I left the club with two eaters
Max Payne, I got two heaters
I poured a four in my two liter
I get more cheese than a slice of pizza
Iced out the cross but I'm not a preacher
Kept a ruler more than my teacher
I'm in the game, you on the bleachers
Hand outs, what are those?
Changing the play like an audible
Versace on me, that's my underclothes
We got some B's, F's, and C's, fuck an honor roll
Pint of the Wock got me movin' slow
Steady totin' them drops, you ain't use 'em though
All these deads in my pocket a funeral
When I flame up that gas it's a funeral
[Verse 1]
My pockets is filled with deads
Backwood filled up with your meds
Don't kick it, I ain't got no legs
You thinkin', get shot in your head
I go HAM for the cheese like I'm in the kitchen, put me on some bread
I got white like mayo but no butter knife, these shots they spread
Locked up, they put me in a cell
My mama said I never cared
I see you on the gang shit but when I hit the block boy you never there
Fuckin' who you came with
Shots pop, send your ass up like some stairs
That was twenty shots, he got hit with seventeen like I was talkin' 'bout the year
Promethazine, no beer
I got two bitches, they queer
Make it rain like Adele
Lamborghini got the engine in the rear
Make my shooter get a tear
My niggas can't bite like they chill
All these new niggas so weird
I shop at Saks, you at Sears
Quarterback, I'm in the field, Recklezz

[Chorus]
I dropped the top on the two seater
I left the club with two eaters
Max Payne, I got two heaters
I poured a four in my two liter
I get more cheese than a slice of pizza
Iced out the cross but I'm not a preacher
Kept a ruler more than my teacher
I'm in the game, you on the bleachers
Hand outs, what are those?
Changing the play like an audible
Versace on me, that's my underclothes
We got some B's, F's, and C's, fuck an honor roll
Pint of the Wock got me movin' slow
Steady totin' them drops, you ain't use 'em though
All these deads in my pocket a funeral
When I flame up that gas it's a funeral
[Verse 2]
Full pint of Wock, put it in my soda
Hit my cup once, now you in a coma
You a bitch nigga, I scared the cobras
Russian AK, hold it on my shoulder
My pockets, they similar to a folder
Gunshots wake you up, ain't no damn Folgers
Gun was seventeen but it got older
Thirty shots, bullets fly, ain't no layover
Get some top from a thot, ain't no stay over
Want some coochie, bitch I'm gucci, ain't no Zaytoven
In the trap, I got keys like I'm Beethoven
In the twenty-four seven, bitch stay open
Nigga fuck motels 'cause they smokin'
Call my shooters packaging 'cause they poking
Ain't fuck with you rats, why they rodents
Just know that I stay for opponents

[Interlude]
Now we are gathered here today
Ladies and gentlemen
To roll this dead ass nigga up
Everybody unroll your wood
Put his dead ass in there
Put a fire to his dead ass
Recklezz bitch
[Chorus]
I dropped the top on the two seater
I left the club with two eaters
Max Payne, I got two heaters
I poured a four in my two liter
I get more cheese than a slice of pizza
Iced out the cross but I'm not a preacher
Kept a ruler more than my teacher
I'm in the game, you on the bleachers
Hand outs, what are those?
Changing the play like an audible
Versace on me, that's my underclothes
We got some B's, F's, and C's, fuck an honor roll
Pint of the Wok got me movin' slow
Steady totin' them drops, you ain't use 'em though
All these deads in my pocket a funeral
When I flame up that gas it's a funeral