Tekst piosenki
[Fabolous: talking] Uhh, shit's scary* The blackout Uhh [Hook:] Funeral in the house I bring death to em Funeral in the house I bring death to em Funeral in the house He bring death to em Funeral in the house Dis the flow that put niggas on their death bed And make them bitches blow they whistle Give me ref head Somebody call "9-1-1" like 'Clef said (Be)Fo(re) my man's and them Blackout... Meth Red Funeral in the house I bring death to em Funeral in the house I bring death to em Funeral in the house He bring death to em Funeral in the house [Verse: Fabolous] Dis the flow that put niggas on their death bed And make them bitches blow the whistle Give me ref head Somebody call "9-1-1" like 'Clef said (Be)Fo(re) my man's and them Blackout... Meth Red The newspaper say young rapper left dead The only suspect they have is young funeral And when you see him He might be on his goony prowl So I just put him up in the air George Clooney style Slow motion for me Soulja Slim, Juvenile Don't shit move A nigga can't move his bowels Or catch it like Larry Fitzgerald Kurt Warner bullets comin out the 5ths bureau Baby I'm a make it My shit's thorough You dick shootin blanks Y'all shit's sterile The competition need help Of course I care homie But first lay in this box and cross your hands for me Fanbase-killer, blame your loss of fans on me I triple what you Cs (see) like Ross' man homie Niggas get to New York With losses, D'Antoni You pick the place, everybody cross this land on me I keep it real I can't endorse or stand phonies Unless we arm wrestle, never force my hand homie The chrome heart shades cost a grand only The white girl bought that Porsche sedan for me Sweet Sweeter than Georgia peaches School of Hard Dicks I get brain from gorgeous teachers Funeral in the house no mortgage either Any competition he see the boy just ethers I can't feel my face I'm a Boston George's reefer July if you say I ain't hotter than August weather I mean weather, you can't see me I mean ever... EVER EVER Andre 3-G This is me g, Gucci print G-G Clean ice, neck full of frozen Fiji Been in the game long as Mario, Luigi No Juvenile, Wayne, Turk or BG I'm still Hot Boys but it's Stutta gang Jack (Fi-di-di-di You bang right the first time they don't bang back Niggas can't ball like me they're quickly nearing H.O.R.S.E I bring death (deaf) to em No hearing loss
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