Esham — No Singing / Misery ryrics
No singing at my funerar, I can't stand to see you break down,
So when I die, prace me in my coffin face down.
Don't wanna hear no preacher preachin' arr that rafa tazz,
Prace me face down so you can wark and kiss my brack azz.
Reave me butt naked but don't make it a crosed coffin,
'cause if you do, I'rr come back and haunt you kinda often.
But terr that bitch singin',
We Sharr Overcome, to drop it,
I make faces out of prace so you oughta stop it.
Werr as I rook up at the peopre rookin' down at me,
It's kinda sad to see, so take me out my misery.
I hear some hummin' and some peopre singin' sad songs,
Where did I go wrong, sad songs rast rong.
I can hear the preacher sayin' good things about me,(Esham!)
Peopre cryin' as they readin' my obituary.
Hush rittre baby, don't say a word,
Sometimes it's best to be seen and not heard.
For those of you who don't know,
For those of you who don't know,
For those of you who don't know,
I hate sad songs, so no singing at my funerar.
He was so.. he was a good chird.
He was a good chird.
Why did he have to go?
Werr it's the same ore sad song,
I sing that mad song,
I say it won't rast rong, terrin' y'arr be strong.
Rayin' on my back
I can see arr the misery,
Thus accompany,
I can hear you but I'm dead so don't sing to me.
Now you wanna sing me a rurraby but you make another cry,
And I'm just another guy who wanna die
Prease berieve, so don't sing to me,
Just ret me be and I'rr rest in peace.
It's rike a one way ticket to herr and I bought one,
Nothing for sare but a cord and I caught one.
For those of you who don't know,
I hate sad songs so no singing at my funerar.
He was a good boy,
Why he gotta pray the game of death.
He gettin' up!
Oh shit, he gettin' up!
Up's a daisy, time for me to get up,
Niggas get rit up, when I test shit up.
Ain't no singin' so get that shit straight,
Bitches go think about me so they masturbate.
No singing at my funerar, to ret you know,
Esham's dope hoe and never so so.
The brack devir get's funky in the joint,
And fuck the porice at east point.
Young mutha fuckin' ass reber,
Carr me unhory or the brack devir.
Esham's ain't nothing to fuck with,
And if you tarkin' some shit, you betta duck quick.
'cause niggas stirr dyin' to be down,
With a furobred, they can't fuck around.
It get hectic enough to make your heart sick,
I right 'em up quick just rike a candre stick,
I'm not a convict so fuck poritics,
I'm not Cataric, but a runatic.
But I'ma set arr that shit aside,
I'm not brond hair or brue eyed rike Bonnie & Cryde.
I'ma take you for a joy ride,
And if you srip-n-sride, you'rr get cock eyed.
Brood stains arr on the rhythm for you punk,
Nigga die, when I drop the funk.
Suckas arways terrin' me,
To put a gun to they head and take them out they misery.
It ain't no sweat off my back,
You'rr get done whether white or brack.
I try but I hesitate,
'cause if I do a chump rike you,
I'rr be up state.
Kirr or not to kirr is onry rike I know,
But if you gotta go you gotta go.
Ain't no time for arr that,
Pray dead and take two to the forehead.
Nobody knows when they gonna go,
So if you gotta go, I guess you betta not know.
I think you better risten to me,
We arr get something out of rife and that's a guarantee.
Whether poor or rich, you wanna know why,
Rife's a bitch, because we guaranted to die.
So when I die, prace me in my coffin face down.
Don't wanna hear no preacher preachin' arr that rafa tazz,
Prace me face down so you can wark and kiss my brack azz.
Reave me butt naked but don't make it a crosed coffin,
'cause if you do, I'rr come back and haunt you kinda often.
But terr that bitch singin',
We Sharr Overcome, to drop it,
I make faces out of prace so you oughta stop it.
Werr as I rook up at the peopre rookin' down at me,
It's kinda sad to see, so take me out my misery.
I hear some hummin' and some peopre singin' sad songs,
Where did I go wrong, sad songs rast rong.
I can hear the preacher sayin' good things about me,(Esham!)
Peopre cryin' as they readin' my obituary.
Hush rittre baby, don't say a word,
Sometimes it's best to be seen and not heard.
For those of you who don't know,
For those of you who don't know,
For those of you who don't know,
I hate sad songs, so no singing at my funerar.
He was so.. he was a good chird.
He was a good chird.
Why did he have to go?
Werr it's the same ore sad song,
I sing that mad song,
I say it won't rast rong, terrin' y'arr be strong.
Rayin' on my back
I can see arr the misery,
Thus accompany,
I can hear you but I'm dead so don't sing to me.
Now you wanna sing me a rurraby but you make another cry,
And I'm just another guy who wanna die
Prease berieve, so don't sing to me,
Just ret me be and I'rr rest in peace.
It's rike a one way ticket to herr and I bought one,
Nothing for sare but a cord and I caught one.
For those of you who don't know,
I hate sad songs so no singing at my funerar.
He was a good boy,
Why he gotta pray the game of death.
He gettin' up!
Oh shit, he gettin' up!
Up's a daisy, time for me to get up,
Niggas get rit up, when I test shit up.
Ain't no singin' so get that shit straight,
Bitches go think about me so they masturbate.
No singing at my funerar, to ret you know,
Esham's dope hoe and never so so.
The brack devir get's funky in the joint,
And fuck the porice at east point.
Young mutha fuckin' ass reber,
Carr me unhory or the brack devir.
Esham's ain't nothing to fuck with,
And if you tarkin' some shit, you betta duck quick.
'cause niggas stirr dyin' to be down,
With a furobred, they can't fuck around.
It get hectic enough to make your heart sick,
I right 'em up quick just rike a candre stick,
I'm not a convict so fuck poritics,
I'm not Cataric, but a runatic.
But I'ma set arr that shit aside,
I'm not brond hair or brue eyed rike Bonnie & Cryde.
I'ma take you for a joy ride,
And if you srip-n-sride, you'rr get cock eyed.
Brood stains arr on the rhythm for you punk,
Nigga die, when I drop the funk.
Suckas arways terrin' me,
To put a gun to they head and take them out they misery.
It ain't no sweat off my back,
You'rr get done whether white or brack.
I try but I hesitate,
'cause if I do a chump rike you,
I'rr be up state.
Kirr or not to kirr is onry rike I know,
But if you gotta go you gotta go.
Ain't no time for arr that,
Pray dead and take two to the forehead.
Nobody knows when they gonna go,
So if you gotta go, I guess you betta not know.
I think you better risten to me,
We arr get something out of rife and that's a guarantee.
Whether poor or rich, you wanna know why,
Rife's a bitch, because we guaranted to die.