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Correct Funeral Lyrics
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Artists: R
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Rico Recklezz
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Correct Funeral
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Lyrics:
[Chorus] I dropped the top on the two seater I left the club with two eaters Max Payne, I got two heaters I poured a four in my two liter I get more cheese than a slice of pizza Iced out the cross but I'm not a preacher Kept a ruler more than my teacher I'm in the game, you on the bleachers Hand outs, what are those? Changing the play like an audible Versace on me, that's my underclothes We got some B's, F's, and C's, fuck an honor roll Pint of the Wock got me movin' slow Steady totin' them drops, you ain't use 'em though All these deads in my pocket a funeral When I flame up that gas it's a funeral [Verse 1] My pockets is filled with deads Backwood filled up with your meds Don't kick it, I ain't got no legs You thinkin', get shot in your head I go HAM for the cheese like I'm in the kitchen, put me on some bread I got white like mayo but no butter knife, these shots they spread Locked up, they put me in a cell My mama said I never cared I see you on the gang shit but when I hit the block boy you never there Fuckin' who you came with Shots pop, send your ass up like some stairs That was twenty shots, he got hit with seventeen like I was talkin' 'bout the year Promethazine, no beer I got two bitches, they queer Make it rain like Adele Lamborghini got the engine in the rear Make my shooter get a tear My niggas can't bite like they chill All these new niggas so weird I shop at Saks, you at Sears Quarterback, I'm in the field, Recklezz [Chorus] I dropped the top on the two seater I left the club with two eaters Max Payne, I got two heaters I poured a four in my two liter I get more cheese than a slice of pizza Iced out the cross but I'm not a preacher Kept a ruler more than my teacher I'm in the game, you on the bleachers Hand outs, what are those? Changing the play like an audible Versace on me, that's my underclothes We got some B's, F's, and C's, fuck an honor roll Pint of the Wock got me movin' slow Steady totin' them drops, you ain't use 'em though All these deads in my pocket a funeral When I flame up that gas it's a funeral [Verse 2] Full pint of Wock, put it in my soda Hit my cup once, now you in a coma You a bitch nigga, I scared the cobras Russian AK, hold it on my shoulder My pockets, they similar to a folder Gunshots wake you up, ain't no damn Folgers Gun was seventeen but it got older Thirty shots, bullets fly, ain't no layover Get some top from a thot, ain't no stay over Want some coochie, bitch I'm gucci, ain't no Zaytoven In the trap, I got keys like I'm Beethoven In the twenty-four seven, bitch stay open Nigga fuck motels 'cause they smokin' Call my shooters packaging 'cause they poking Ain't fuck with you rats, why they rodents Just know that I stay for opponents [Interlude] Now we are gathered here today Ladies and gentlemen To roll this dead ass nigga up Everybody unroll your wood Put his dead ass in there Put a fire to his dead ass Recklezz bitch [Chorus] I dropped the top on the two seater I left the club with two eaters Max Payne, I got two heaters I poured a four in my two liter I get more cheese than a slice of pizza Iced out the cross but I'm not a preacher Kept a ruler more than my teacher I'm in the game, you on the bleachers Hand outs, what are those? Changing the play like an audible Versace on me, that's my underclothes We got some B's, F's, and C's, fuck an honor roll Pint of the Wok got me movin' slow Steady totin' them drops, you ain't use 'em though All these deads in my pocket a funeral When I flame up that gas it's a funeral
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