[Skit 1: Man 1, Man 2, and Man 3]
Hey motherfucker we ain’t got shit to talk about bitch, let’s get the fuck outta here
Yo chill fam
You gon’ make fun of me like that?
Chill, chill fam
Yo back up
Fuck you then man, fuck you bitch
Fuck outta here–
(Gunshot)
[Intro: Man]
I wanna greet the congregation and all the rest of you
Who have chosen, to grace our Church
On this special day
What makes this day so special?
What is so special you ask?
Another black boy bites the dust to which thou art returned
[Verse 1: Special One]
As I, look into my man's casket
I gotta ask it
Which one of y'all busters let my nigga get blasted?
I thought you had his back
He thought you had his back
He wasn't one for caught slippin' or gettin' jacked
I'm feeling like y'all know who did it
An inside job, to cause a closed up shop, I wasn't with it
I'm ready to open up my own candy store cuz uh
Being a gangster's widow ain't no cake walk, protect the scrilla
So let these ends pull me out of mourning, now I'm greeting
Workers from here to Sac tweaking, to keep them ends meeting
Some of y'all been eating too swell, I'm taxin' luxuries
I juggle these crooks too well, so noone's fuckin’ me
It's time for cutbacks, regrouping, and reanimating
Y'all janky ballers [?] I keep regurgitating
My nigga’s dead and that outside world be looking so cold
Just so bold
Putting a cop in a chokehold
[Hook]
Now feel this widow
(They took my nigga out but they ain't taking me mayne)
(They took my nigga out but they ain't taking me mayne)
Now feel this widow
(They took my nigga out but they ain't taking me mayne)
[Verse 2: CMG (and Special One)]
Oh now, these hoes know not where I come from, with no error
I'm terrible thangs from cane to bear a bonds, now:
Whoop the DEA trace on tap lines
And my chisel chips chumps away, all that remains is game time
I'm kneeling on my man's grave
Hopin’ you're somewhere proud, knowing your G's paid
Stackin' mo scrilla than most and never played the fade
A couple of workers got smoked, why?
Too bitchmade
It was a scene, not on a G flick
We was on a lick
Frozen like ‘cicles in the cut, thinkin' nigga what?
Seven keys on a shipment from L.A., equipment loaded, fitted, black like taz
So come up, I can't wait
Jumped out the cut, yelling “Nigga freeze!
And where you going with my seven keys? I lost these.”
Possession is 9/10ths of the law
Act like y'all ain’t never saw this above the rim, flawless
That's why they call us ballers
(From my peripheral, I see a nigga withdraw his heat
To pull a triple-cross jack, but I can't have that B
I watch half of my squad, turn they backs, I'm knowing it's a set up
Niggas bout to get wet up, shut up
Hit the floor, drop the zap
My response was a hot ass cap
Now finish on that
With that, same nigga that was crying on your casket, blasted
Caught me in the chest, dazed, watching the room fade)
[Skit 2: EMT]
Forceps! Forceps!
(Where is he, where is he, where is he)
Clear, clear
Alright I got it
[Verse 3: Special One (and CMG)]
Thank God for Kevlar, or that shell’s not coated with Teflon
Or I'd be a headstrong dead G with my chest gone
They caught me nappin', slippin', sleep, gone
But failed to finish me off, and now it's on
I'm calling in favors, Q’s P’s [?] end up G's on best behavior
Freezing all transactions til these player hating traitors show their faces
How would you handle this, if you were still living?
So unforgiven pulling they hearts out and leavin’ their bodies kickin'
(Deep in this game, fools is heartless, corrupt, insane, no brain, psycho, fucked
They wanna meet me for a truce talk, but that won't wash it
It's on-sight drama, too much funk, I can't squash it
I'm 20 deep, fried, cheap, we hit the spot is hot
Somebody's ass finna be marked, finna be got
As the sweat falls from my crooked brow to my lashes
I asked him, "What's up? Y'all ready to get this nigga blasted?"
We comin’ to they spot, no stress, no strife
I'm seeing partner with the heat that's tryna take my life
I guess these wannabe G's, just don't fucking get it
The wife is now a widow, if there's funk I'm gettin’ with it)
