This is a song about "Funeral"

I’m so foulx-rayin' every girl blouseforgive me, i’m back calm now

Family making funeral preparations they told me reap what you sow

The real result will end with your #funeral, a #skewed #sickle till your #pupils #grow

Creep with methrough that immortal flowthug passion got you tremblinglike death on the row

Its a funeral on april twentieth,

So i guess that's where i hide my things

And get that pussy when i took her to the funeral

Weird niggas make sick too i don't need no pistol

As far as being hard, i feel i’m somewhere near medusa

Funeral staff n' tubas, cadavers packaged like tuna

At her funeral, yet few will know what really showed her to the putrid hole

So much black on it look like i'm mining coal, call fire control,

It's them who've lost love, and love for a lyricist

At his funeral i pleaded how much he will be missed,

At a studio or your funeral, i'm still spitting multiple times

Really probably waitin' on vh1 to do a lil show called rappers wives