none

[Chorus: funeral]

Bet that bitch think I owe her somethin', I don't owe these bitches nothin'

I'm a sick son of a bitch, I let that temple meet my gun

Before I ever give these bitches a dollar up out my wallet

Think that bitch still got my number, pray to God that she don't call it, uh-uh

[Verse 1: funeral]

I cannot get comfortable with these bitches

Tell her keep it to herself, mind her fucking busine-e-e-ess

Aight, I'ma fuck with you

Finessa, no Huxtable

Bitch, I am untouchable, this pistol very tuckable

I'ma fuck the bag еvery night 'cause the bag is thе only thing in my life that's fuckable

Sike, nah, ha

[Chorus: funeral]

Bet that bitch think I owe her somethin', I don't owe these bitches nothin'

I'm a sick son of a bitch, I let that temple meet my gun

Before I ever give these bitches a dollar up out my wallet

Think that bitch still got my number, pray to God that she don't call it, uh-uh

(Think I owe her somethin')

(Owe these bitches none)

(Sick son of a bitch, I let that temple meet my gun)