Fabolous, Kobe, Paul Cain, Willie the Kid, Red Cafe - Funeral Service Music lyrics

Funeral service music!
(Uhh, uhh) that nigga's lyrics sound
Like he passed away, i'm sending a hearse

(Uhh) Ha ha haha ahh, man street fam AMG!

(Uhh) hakeem

You know talking shit right!hakeem
(Right) now funerals
Those shit's are expensive haha ahh

Yeah, I mean what I say like the dictionary
I don't write rhymes, I write obituaries
New state, new date, I got a bitch in every
I picked you up, I knocked you down
Get the picture Carrie
I get you buried, Trey Ocho speci
Fuck it, I dig the hole, I'm so Joe Pesci
Goodfellas shit, rose gold Presi
Kush in attendance, Rose moe presi


If they don't like yo' boy, those hoes lezzy
We lucille ball, and blow those dessies
(heh, heh, heh)
Yeah, Ricky Ricardo, sit in the car though
Matte black Gallardo, Freck tell
Em our dough, match Wells Fargo
Ten gees in every pocket
And we wearing cargos
Hit them with the hook like
Killah Kareem on em
Or barcode niggas, put that red beam on em
At baggage claim, Louie luggage
Like a? on em
Semi with me too, coming to America
Coming through with Erica
Her style head shot em
My bitch won't miss em, her swag red dot em
Her shoe game
Something need to be said bout em
Santa Claus pants, yeah
That's them red bottoms
Her ex used to get em 'til the feds got him
Story made a cover
Y'all probably read bout him

Cuz we do it, ain't worry
Bout the next nigga, we got that cheese
Cuz we do it, you're now
Rocking with the best nigga
And that's on me cuz we do it
I do it, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, I do it, yeah
Yeah don't worry leave it to me
It ain't no sweat I can do it

You know me
In all black like I'm in a funeral
Black Louies, black True's, the usual
I don't mourn life, I celebrate your death
Take too long, to more accelerate your death
And the last cat that came with
A squad to see him said he was a rider
So I parked him in the mausoleum
No witness or bystanders when
I start the squeezin
Take him on a long ride
Spark him in the car then leave him
Red and blue M6, Peter Parker BM
Big rims, tint's dark, you can hardly see him
Paparazzi outside o' every party we in
The boy so far gone, you can hardly see him
Different mind state, tax bracket and plateau
Six deuce s
With the curtains in the back closed
Far as rap goes
The best couldn't match flows
Nigga, it's the funeral
Bury him with a black rose

Blood on my apron, blood on my guillotine
Body on the patio, torch it, kerosene
Strap make the room hot, radiator on
American gangsta, aviators on
Boss of the underworld
New York and the mainstream
Street fam certified, considered the A team
Real spit, when drama unfold
Sucker shit get broadcast, the truth untold
We raise the murder rate
That you can't avoid
Only thing similar is Philly and Illinois
Real hood work, never no sun dance
Holla to me on the booths, homie, freelance
What's your order I deliver to your dope spot
Just say mine and we smooth like botox
Money come short, I squeeze heat on arrival
Cook beef, partner, leave pico de gallo
Knife work awful, gun work awful
Jig you, then you bye, bye
Just another barcode
Hustler but through rap I get hella cheques
Street patriot, I get Bill Belichicks
Phone tapped
But fuck it I still promote crack
Audio crack, uncut coke rap
Strapped with Taurus or Berettas
Pop, pop, body fly high, no feathers

I said umm
Flick the headlights on the hearses
Symbol at the churches
Speaking at the service
Speaking of a service, I do a disservice
And this nigga certainly superb
With the verbage dead niggas
Embalming fluid your whole movement
Money talks, I've been fluent, I'm congruent
With Ben Franklins, I'm frank
Put you on to it
And put you niggas in suit's
Like Farrakhan students
This a funeral, finna be a burial
Matter of fact, cremate you bastards
Scatter ashes
Close caskets, handing out gas masks
Willie The Kid, biblical flow
Book of Damascus rest in peace, niggas

I'm not laughing
(yeah) I'm trynna keep from crying, man
All of you niggas dead man, it's so sad
It's so sad