This is a song about "Funeral"

At his funeral his mom was 9 days late,

Our vision never changed, we self made

Play me for a stepping stone then, i land mine, huh

Funeral staff n' tubas, cadavers packaged like tuna

But you gotta understand i been broken and this my purge,

Im at your funeral getting slurped in the church

At the funeral smiles covered, their eyes flustered as the hearses cruised

Cuz if i hit it now these feelings take a different route

Im unrealistically realistic, this beat, i control

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

Then for efficiency we shoot up ya funeral

But don't expect a ring if you committed to the hustle

I'm at the funeral cryin' heavily,

Funny how money, chains and whips make me feel free

That's flyer than a wrestler, you don't want to mess with

Its a funeral on april twentieth,