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lirik lagu funeral – corey patrick

[intro]
my n*ggas stay smoking, catch a contact at my funeral

[chorus]
my n*ggas stay smoking, catch a contact at my funeral
sh*t, i hope the f*cking pews is full
getting to this paper, sh*t, this money f*cking beautiful
time is money so i use it up
my n*ggas stay smoking, catch a contact at my funeral
sh*t, i hope the f*cking pews is full
getting to this paper, sh*t, this money f*cking beautiful
time is money so i use it up

[bridge]
i ain’t even gone, sh*t i’m still rocking with you
gone and light it up, yeah gone and pop that liquor
i ain’t even gone, sh*t i’m still rocking with you
gone and light it up, yeah gone and pop that liquor
i’m going up, come get high with me
burn that sh*t up, turn that sh*t up
come and fly with me, i’m going up, i’m going up
come get high with me, burn that sh*t up, turn that sh*t up

[verse 1]
been a while since i spoke to the big man
two backwoods, six grams
the fit i want cost six grand
so n*gga, i’m a ball like the 6 man
love dark liquor, it’s the sh*t, man
but i stay off half a pill just to withstand
the thought that a n*gga could just
cl!ck*blam, then my life over like godd*mn
that’s why i been back to the old me
calling shots off the jack, blowing og
put my b*tch on her back, give her dope d
she never got a withdrawal, she might od
i’m a greedy ass n*gga, free 03
me and gang like shaq and kobe
me and gang like ‘bron and ad
no wonder all these p*ssy n*ggas hate me

[bridge 2]
my n*ggas stay smoking, catch a contact at my funeral
sh*t, i hope the f*cking pews is full
getting to this paper, sh*t, this money f*cking beautiful

[verse 2]
i’m standing at my funeral, these pews is full, it’s beautiful
this life, is there really a way to live it right
i done spent way too much time
racing, running from these lights
counting to make sure it’s right, angry getting into fights
all this blood up on my whites, i got scuffs up on my nikes
money coming, it’s a*ight, why we do this every night
i stay praying to the lord to keep my family safe
gotta chase this paper every single day
been addicted ever since i got a taste
heartbreaks every time my homie catch a case
life is like a box of chocolates on display
i came up a hustler, turned into a player
i be mobbin’, call up tony for a favor
middle finger, what i put up on a hater
i be getting higher than an elevator
i ain’t gon’ trust that you gon’ see me later
thank ya
want my ashes spread from new england to jamaica

- corey patrick

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