Walkin’ 2 My Funeral

Lyrics

(Brotha Lynch Hung) Creeping in the dark with a nine and a 4-O 5-O, 12 o'clock, so I creep slow Deuce Four homies know I just can't claim, so I stay neutral Pack me some ammo and a futhamuckin' 4-4 Can't pack a piece too often End up having another sucka's guts hanging off 'em In a 1-8-7 R.A.P. A.S.A.P Reaping off the fits doing time in the penitentiary And as I creep, I peep mista locsta with the gun outta his holster Thinking he supposed to point it at me But now everybody loves a cop killer Just about as much as a young cap peeler So what I did is grab my nine but Before I put the clip in All I heard is pop pop pop, what, I'm trippin' My body's leaking blood, I can't call it One-time murdering a young alcoholic I'm on the ground with a 40 spilled on my chest Bullet holes and a supposed-to-work bulletproof vest Caught slipping, my niggaro's You can burn that hearse 'cause I'mma walk to my funeral (Mia Bruce) (Can you feel me?) Can you feel it You know what you got to do (Can you feel me?) Why don't you change? You know what you got to do (Can you feel me?) Why don't you change? (Can you feel me?) (T.M. Shades) I can't believe it, I got shot, I thought I ducked I was just rolling my dice pressing my luck Kicking it with them fellas drinking 40's on the block Talking about what my dice will do when they drop Then all of the sudden, damn, I think saw a gun After I heard the bam that made everybody run I'm trying to run but I ain't 'cause I'm falling My body's getting numb, I hear my mother calling My heart stops but it don't feel like I'm dead I think I hear a bullet burning cells in my head And now I'm seeing black, puzzled and surprised My worst thought and nightmare was now realitized And I didn't even get me a chance to say goodbye to my mommy Ambulance covering my body Put me in the truck, closed the door, stuck a tag on my toe And put me in a drawer, case closed Another innocent victim victimized In the wrong place, at the wrong time My story was wrote, the book read Now I might be laying here dead But I'ma walk to my funeral (Mia Bruce) (Can you feel me?) I want to know why don't you just listen to me Why don't you listen to me (Can you feel me?) (Brotha Lynch Hung) 10 o'clock at the set, Lynch crept Some nigga rolled up in a mob wanted a cigarette Nuttin, ay, now I'm smoking on some indo And on that note, he stuck a gauge out the window "Break yourself for that dank and your cash" Foo try to take my grip and then mash I'm like what, heh, I'm not going out, fool I bust out my ol' school, and swing my thangs real cool So what up? I'm not tripping off your gauge, what up? Ain't even packing, you the brotha with the gauge at my gut So bust He start loading me full of them shells There wasn't no way I was dropping, I'm bloody as hell 6 holes in my body and I'm trying to walk Graveyard straight callin' me, I'm living off a nerve shock And on my tombstone 1990-deuce And I go but I'ma strike to my funeral [Outro] Yeah in the mothafucking house my nigga Shades, you know Thanks for accompanyin' me on this mothafucka, you know And we gon' do some damage, you know, in the 9-deuce You know, so I'm going out like that (Mia Bruce) Can you feel me?