Besedila:
Funeral Hunger

covet Reaps a poor harvest In these latter days. Starve me in Boneman torture. Skin-tight lover. Pound upon pound Of flesh paid well With gnawing ache, And hunger

I don?t have regrets all the times that I was negligent Standing in the courtroom fronting like im innocent Look at how I came up Duckin undercover men Friends getting railroaded hung

now  Hands in the air, its a stick up, stick up  no funny business or you get lit up, lit up  You test I (I), you gon' die (die)  And at your funeral

in the aquarium I rarely hear no, like when niggas ask you to marry them There's no lights in the place you buy your jewelry from Funeral fab, I'm just

up with black market now peep this shit gets deeper and deeper, the doomstown grim reaper and P-I-T platinum, Mr Dr. Lynch Hung we do

all them other mothafuckas done left shmother motha fuckas To death other motherfuckas done shlept long hit off the kryptonite and get Gone hit em' up two in the dome is it yo funeral

[Hung] Look up in the sky it's a motherfuckin slug Some nigga done let one off and only my cousins sheddin' blood That loccest muthafucka from 29 st.

ruben make dead people. Catch em comin out the church steeple, cause he did my people. You know, paybacks to the first degree, and Im cript walkin to my funeral

' a loots all up to make you vomit from the raw gut cause Nah what I do is let my nine do the talkin' Leavin' you walkin' to your funeral low Diggin'?