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Дата: 2 июля 2015, Просмотров: 723

50 Cent - The Funeral

You forgot my style.
Flowers, a funeral service, a kid's in the coffin,
It sound so familiar, don't it happen so often?
The shoot-out shit happens, the sister read the eulogy,
Couldn't help but think, ‘Nigga, better you than me.'
.38 ain't got no safety, that bullet got no name on it,
But it's hard to miss when that thing got a beam on it.
First shot, pop off, everybody poppin' shots,
The glass at the store front, we forgot God was watchin'.
Run, run, hit the gate,  D's yellin', ‘Drop it!'
Niggas gettin' jammed up, better that than a jammed up.
His momma said a few words, to her he was innocent,
She might have heard he did some shit, but never saw no benefits,
So in her eyes, he's mommy's little baby,
But he was outside talkin' to niggas crazy.
In a room full of people came to pay their respect,
I just came in to get a close look at nigga to check,
That nigga dead as a doorknob, stiff as a nail,
And my man, tomorrow he gon' get outta jail.
R.O.R., trust me, nigga, I know the law,
Release on your own recognizance, that bullshit I'm on it.
That's his first taste, I mean his first case,
Got knocked with the strap, but not the one that clapped.
This nigga here, we still got that, yeah,
First law in my hood is show no fear.
Him and love was closer than we thought, that nigga in here cryin',
Oh, shit, in the store, he probably passed him the iron!
These some grimy ass niggas, full breed vultures,
Tryna come up, still eatin' around roaches,
Cookie Crisp, Captain Crunch, breakfast of the champions,
Lucky Charms, stay armed, and niggas won't clap you then.
We watch the side bitch talkin' like she his main bitch,
His wifey just sat there, preachers weren't sayin' shit.
Right jab, left hook, hand full of weave,
This type shit a nigga got to see to believe,
These bitches actin' up in here,
Police they don't fuckin' care,
Homicides snoopin' around of them, we all with the shit.
Cousin back from college sayin' he gon' get who did this shit.
He a ball player nigga, nigga, better play ball,
You play with the wrong niggas, we gon' get to lettin' off,
I done seen enough, feel like it's time for me to split.
Hit the parking lot, chill where the weed is lit,
Twist the cap, pour out a little liquor,
All the theatrics, you know, like that was my nigga.
We all can't win, some of us got to lose,
Envision a lil' dog barkin' at a pack of wolves,
‘Cause that's what happened, yeah-yeah, that's what happened,
He just went on and on till niggas started attackin',
Actin' like he was the only mothafucka packin'.
50 bars of pleasure, 50 bars of pain,
When I'm dead and I'm gone niggas will remember the name –
It's Fifty.
50 bars of pleasure, 50 bars of pain,
When I'm dead and I'm gone niggas will remember the name –
It's Fifty.
        

Видеоклип «50 Cent - The Funeral»

* Текст песни написан собственноручно и предназначен для ознакомления.