Felt, Ces Cru - Fun-eral lyrics

Do me a favor (what?) get your weight up
Felt's in your city, we don’t need any help
Do me a favor, run that cES, Murs, Strange
We wrote the book for you young macks
Pardon me Barbie get your weight up
Ryhmesayers, Strange, ain’t shit funny
Do me a favor, run that slug, Ces, Murs
We wrote the book for you young macks

Rhymesayers, minors to the majors
Stomp around a bird cage full of papers
Point lasers at the neighbors
Ever since the clock got punched on
My first day of labor
Ain’t no shame in my game’s wagers
Spectator on the side catch a
Mouth full of flavor
Wasted, tryna walk a line like equator
Fuck the po-po, we blow dro with the mayor
Do me a favor, raise up away from my space
Out my face, occupy a different acre
Leak like a strainer, poisoned by the waiter
Drown in the dirt, eat a fuck for a chaser
Pardon me Barbie
This ain’t a party for you Kramer
Marking me the maker if I spark up the anger
Minneapple bang, Twin Cities rap sanger
And I’m down with the strange
Cause I ain’t no stranger

Do me a favor (what?) get your weight up
Felt's in your city, we don’t need any help
Do me a favor, run that
CES, Murs, Strange, we wrote the book

We get the place jumping
They ask Ubi to say something
He spat and they got nothing
But flames from him raised up in the ring
Stuck in a state of perpetual busting
8s off of puffing that dank
A runaway train off of the track
Rocket attack
Roadside bomb blast, y’all talking in back
What? The blizzard black coffin is shut
Human assassin
Sarcophagus and a tomb, due to get wrapped up
I’m doing the MAC strut
Rose grew in the black mud
Rap guns, I hold two, move and I pap one
Flow’s closed captioned
My text on the screen
Everything CES doing they affecting the scene
I’m repping with Dean
Killer City record machine
116 pounds anorexic to me
So get your weight up
I’m the ring with hands taped up
Shadowboxing until clear channel mandates us
What?

Pardon me Barbie, get your weight up
Ryhmesayers, Strange, ain’t shit funny
Do me a favor, run that slug, CES, MURS
We wrote the book for you young macks

Fuck karma, I’m king, counter of chips
Cash out here to stick
A couple of real chicks pass out
I ain’t in it to win it
Loser we don’t need any help me and MURS
Ubiquitous finna slug em till it’s felt
Pray they melt, in a fire of hell
They might as well
All these students Zach Morris
Well they saved by the bell said I’m psycho
Made me a cell outside of the jail
Yeah I might glow
All because of my ghost in it's shell
New millennium rap serpent
Serving em with the venom
I’m the black mamba
You notice I’m murdering em
Then I’m up in them guts
Pussy pardon me for the slaughter
Throw a hex on a bitch before
I lead her to water
Oughta be, chained up in a cage
I’m in a rage eat a dick, bitch idiot
No this isn’t a phase stay way away
Postal I’ll probably let it spray today
Racks to the third power
Pussys have got to pay to play

Do me a favor (what?) get your weight up
Felt's in your city, we don’t need any help
Do me a favor, run that
Rhymesayers, Strange, got nothing but flames

Rottenest of rascals
Storming through your castle
Dead beat douchebag, certified asshole
Hassle at the door, he wouldn’t let me in
So I left and came back
With a few more friends
Party crashing, straight through the window
Back in the days that
Bouncer stole my Nintendo
Insufficient funds when they printing
Out my balance never sold my soul but I
Rented out my talents
What about the girls? Save
Something for the girls
For a chance to push your lips
I would promise you the world
Midtown crook from the Ave meadow brooks
Broke the little ladys’ heart
With just one look
Before we got took we wrote the
Book for you young macks
Felt's in your city
Tell your boyfriend to run that
Ante up, ante up, ain’t shit funny
Got a Rhymesayers check
And I’m spending Strange money