the funeral lyrics – game

i’m back….
haha! n*gg*z can’t f*ck with me man….
n*gg*z is crazy, dogg. i run this underground rap sh*t, and the mainstream n*gg*
i’ma do like boo-boo…
diss n*gg*z right when they f*cking alb*m come out… and kill ’em!
hear the breakdown,
time to separate the men from the boys,
take it straight to the bank, call it christopher lloyd,
call it momma’s little boy, or 50’s little b*tch,
the rotten apple or the protégé of a snitch,
the protégé of a b*tch, n*gg* softer than a taybo kick,
you billy blanks on them p*rno flicks,
with no p*rno chicks, only p*rno d*cks,
you taladamore wh*r* with them g-string drawers,
and so therefore, i declare war,
outside violator, meet me at four ,
young buck stay back, banks put this autograph
a jorge posada glove on and let’s play catch!
(gunshot) that’s for your one platinum plaque
(gunshot) that’s for the n*gg*z riding in the back
(gunshot) tryna reach for the sh*t on your lap
(gunshot) that’s for your boss sayin’ he write my raps (gunshot)

i’ma killa, blackwall gorilla,
that pine-box sealer, g-unit cap peeler,
i’m realer, 40 oz. spiller,
40 glock killer, 40 glocc killer!

ask spider, i be creepin’ and crawlin’, spinning webs around you n*gg*z,
stacking bread around you n*gg*z.
every time you roll up, the feds around you n*gg*z,
i used to watch everything i said around you n*gg*z.
twenty n*gg*z on the squad, that’s twenty n*gg*z in the can,
that’s twenty witnesses, twenty n*gg*z on the stand,
god d*mn, can someone tell them the street code,
the game is to be sold, and not to be told
this ain’t dre and suge or beans and hov
this is one bullet, one head, and one lost soul.
wipe my fingerprints off, and the gun is tossed in with the fishes
like you and juice, i’m coming for bishop, i’m gunning for bishop,
i’m the king of this l.a. sh*t,
tell me homie, is you blood or crip? is you thug or b*tch?
cos the ese’s say,
they don’t never see holmes running round l.a..
fake *ss ghostwriter, get your lil’ flow tighter
‘for i put you in the trunk of this f*cking low-rider.
n*gg* you ain’t nuttin’ but hittman in quicksand,
got a deal cos you sucked a couple d*cks, and
turned your back on delany and jimmy henchman,
just take this as a warning, don’t flinch, man.
wear your rag, you from 1-9-0? no!
you know pap, do you bang east coast? no!
have you ever hopped 1-6-4? no!
do the hood feel your wack*ss flow? no!
so sit your lil’ *ss down somewhere,
‘for i have them n*gg*z sit yo’ *ss down somewhere,
in the ground somewhere, outta town somewhere,
breakin news, body has been found somewhere,
now back to the video, look at these silly muh’f*ckers,
y’all some silly muh’f*ckers; “i say hands up,
shorty wanna kick it with me”
get that wack sh*t of bet,
turn the channel, all black lambo,
red and black flannel, speakers in the trunk,
with more humps then a camel,
man, i’m sayin, i ain’t playin, i’m sprayin’,
any n*gg* in your clique that ever yelled that sh*t
(gunshot) muh’f*cker, that’s for yayo and buck
(gunshot) that’s for hot rod promotional truck
(gunshot) that’s for kanye, and beefin’ with puff
(gunshot) tell the n*gg* that’s behind you, duck!

gunshot) i’ma killa, blackwall gorilla,
any clip filler, mobb deep cap peeler.
i’m realer, the hollow-tip driller,
the rap godzilla, the lloyd banks killer! (gunshot)

in the diablo, under the tent,
n*gg* i’m about a dollar, what the f*ck is 50 cent?
when jay said it, i didn’t know what it meant,
now i understand, it’s starting to make sense.
now the whole world know why i took the ‘i’ out of g-unit,
and replaced it with a m*th*f*ckin ‘o’
remember when you told me “meet you on the top” n*gg*?
check the soundscan, guess who on top, n*gg*!
fake-*ss king of new york, you need to stop, n*gg*,
cos you not big, not nas, not jigga,
take your steroids, show me what you got, n*gg*!
you ain’t had a b*tch since vivica fox, n*gg*,
last i heard you sucking on c*cks, n*gg*,
n*body know cos they don’t see you on the blocks, n*gg*
cos you be in the pre-sync with the cops, n*gg*
your whole staff, with a badge and a glock n*gg*
mid-town manhattan, tryna stop n*gg*s,
on the subway, chasing down shop-lifters,
all in the streets, talkin ’bout you shot n*gg*s,
then you went in new york times, takin cop pictures,
i exposed you n*gg*s and put out stop snitchin’,
when the last time you seen ’em with some hot b*tches?
see what he say when you ask him, “where the hot b*tches?”
check the adam’s apple, n*gg* them is not b*tches,
you’re reign on the top was shorter than the legs on a leprechaun,
just bow down n*gg*, accept the don,
n*body wanna be a hero when the tech is strong,
their transformers folding up like decepticons,
n*gg*z bust like pipes when the pressure on,
see that light flash when the desert eagle at your dome,
every rapper know from now, i’ma set the tone,
n*gg*z real hard body ’til they head is gone,
here come the demons, cos they know that you dead and gone,
some n*gg*z just don’t get it, ’til you at the throne.
n*gg*z can’t f*ck with me n*gg*!
100 bars, n*gg*! i do 100 bars every m*th*f*ckin day of the week, n*gg*!
that’s 700 bars a week, n*gg*! on this f*cking underground rap sh*t, n*gg*.
i can’t be f*ckin stopped. period, n*gg*.
the game, n*gg*. west coast don. black wallstreet, n*gg*.
i’m ready to get down when you ready to get down, m*th*f*ckas!
i’m talkin to all you n*gg*s!
i can’t be faded, n*gg*. n*gg*z don’t want it with me, n*gg*.
it’s just me, m*th*f*ckas!
and i’m p*ssed off.
got me all on the front of the m*th*f*ckin mixtape.
in a f*ckin stripper outfit, n*gg*, with some g-strings on.
that ain’t me, m*th*f*ckas! this is me, m*th*f*ckas!
yeah! doctor’s advocate, in stores november 7th.
cop it when i drop it, n*gg*.
g-g-g-g-g
g-g-g-g-g-g-unot!
g-unit is now officialy over. you can mail back your cd’s, apparel, headbands, g-unit spinner replicas and g-unit shoes to 1548 south ardmore drive, los angeles, california, 90743. thank you, have a nice day

/ game lyrics