The Wake

First off, I wanna send my condolences (Hahaha, haha)

Rest in peace to the competition (Yeah)

Sup, Dram'? (Hahaha)

Y'all know what this is, right?

Da, da grillz, da, da, da grillz

Da, da grillz, da, da, da grillz

Da, da grillz, da, da, da grillz

Da, da grillz, da, da, da, da, da

I am logged on to FuckNiggas-dot-com (Yeah)

And I am everything these fuck-**** not, Dram' (Ayy)

Must be some confusion—you **** are not me (Not me)

I am an illusion, really what you can not see (Not see)

So picture me, like a paparazzi

H, dot N, dot I, dot, C

We don't play when we roll—no Yahtzee

And I hate you ****—no Nazi

But this the Holocaust, rap genocide (Yeah)

Ike Turner, take that, bitchslaps in the ride (Woo)

My shawty tellin' me, "Kill the competition, boo"

And I be tellin' her, "There is no competition to—"

(Nice!) There Is No Competition 2

It's good to wake up, look in the mirror, and the only competition's you

And even that **** ain't seeing me (Uh-uh)

My reflection have a hard time being me (Haha)

So the "tryna do me" shit, it's time to dead it (Dead)

I'm what you don't do, even if Simon said it

I kill 'em with the shine—give these black diamonds credit

And my watch is sick, but I have no time for medics

Black ice in the Audemars—this is custom-order, bruh

First, I call a jeweler up; then, I call the coroner

My car is a foriegner, my bitch is from Florida

I killed the pussy last night, so, now, her man is mourning her (Yeah)

Good morning, sir—I good-night ****

Y'all on Death Row: I Suge Knight ****

Time to depart: I book flights, ****

"What's up, son?" What it look like, ****?

Black dress, black suits, black shades, black boots

Black trucks, black coupes; guns blow—black flutes

Black card, black jewels, black party bag

Black Friday—throw it in a body bag

Black Barbie: That's what I call my Black broad (Yes)

African plug: That's what I call a black card (Yes)

Get your sharps, get your flats: that's the black keys (Keys)

Getting slick will get you holes in your black tees (Tees)

Black limos, black Town Cars, black hearses (Woo)

Black register books signed in black cursive (Yeah)

Black tears, white tissues out of black purses (Yeah)

That's procedure when I'm sending back verses

The Wake!

This the wake right here—it come before the funeral, ****

They call me Funeral Fab, ****, AKA Young Funeral! I'm killing these ****!

Dram'!

All these **** is dead!

You look around, they all dead!

Hahahahaha

It's Street Fam', ****!

Nice!