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fabolous - bring death to em lyrics

[fabolous: talking]
uhh, sh-t’s scary-
the blackout
uhh

[hook:]
funeral in the house
i bring death to em
funeral in the house
i bring death to em
funeral in the house
he bring death to em
funeral in the house

dis the flow that put n-ggas on their death bed
and make them b-tches blow they whistle
give me ref head
somebody call “9-1-1” like ‘clef said
(be)fo(re) my man’s and them blackout… meth red

funeral in the house
i bring death to em
funeral in the house
i bring death to em
funeral in the house
he bring death to em
funeral in the house

[verse: fabolous]
dis the flow that put n-ggas on their death bed
and make them b-tches blow the whistle
give me ref head
somebody call “9-1-1” like ‘clef said
(be)fo(re) my man’s and them blackout… meth red
the newspaper say young rapper left dead
the only suspect they have is young funeral
and when you see him
he might be on his goony prowl
so i just put him up in the air
george clooney style
slow motion for me
soulja slim, juvenile
don’t sh-t move
a n-gga can’t move his bowels
or catch it like larry fitzgerald
kurt warner bullets comin out the 5ths bureau
baby i’m a make it
my sh-t’s thorough
you d-ck shootin blanks
y’all sh-t’s sterile
the compet-tion need help
of course i care homie
but first lay in this box and cross your hands for me
fanbase-k!ller, blame your loss of fans on me
i triple what you cs (see) like ross’ man homie
n-ggas get to new york
with losses, d’antoni
you pick the place, everybody cross this land on me
i keep it real
i can’t endorse or stand phonies
unless we arm wrestle, never force my hand homie
the chrome heart shades cost a grand only
the white girl bought that porsche sedan for me
sweet
sweeter than georgia peaches
school of hard d-cks
i get brain from gorgeous teachers
funeral in the house no mortgage either
any compet-tion he see the boy just ethers
i can’t feel my face
i’m a boston george’s reefer
july if you say i ain’t hotter than august weather
i mean weather, you can’t see me
i mean ever… ever ever
andre 3-g
this is me g, gucci print g-g
clean ice, neck full of frozen fiji
been in the game long as mario, luigi
no juvenile, wayne, turk or bg
i’m still hot boys but it’s stutta gang jack (fi-di-di-di
you bang right the first time they don’t bang back
n-ggas can’t ball like me they’re quickly nearing h.o.r.s.e
i bring death (deaf) to em
no hearing loss

- fabolous lyrics

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