Walkin’ 2 My Funeral

(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