Play me for a stepping stone then, i land mine, huh
Funeral staff n' tubas, cadavers packaged like tuna
The truth, with martin luther king at the cemetery,
Where bad bitches with bad intentions just act friendly
For shootin' done to you or we're losin' money
I'm at the funeral cryin' heavily,
Coming with some proof see at yo funeral *raps in the tomb
We gon make it to the bedroom, i like the guest room
Cemetery and bury it,
You don't mean that, you faggot
Everybody know me like the contra code for extra men
Hop on the cable and watch your funeral on cnn
I'll have to be carried inside the cemetery and buried alive (huh yup!)
And as the years pass by, you can show them foolsbut you ain't trying to hear me cause your stuck
Appearance to his funeral left me boxed like a cubicle.
With some soccer moms where they like to fucking sit and mingle
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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