[Reverand Tom - Kool Keith]

Carole Lewis, may you rest in peace

Here today, we are giving a wake

Reverand Tom, and a lot of you other people out there

in the so-called industry, executives

Major promotional people that have died

and lost their lives

I will throw a little sand as the Reverand

and let's pray everybody, gather around

Let's close our eyes for one second with a moment of silence



I'm tired of you watered down figures

Y'all major record company watered down minions

Take what I create

Massive audience bite my innovative stuff and duplicate

Casium trinity..

Cats are bitin me, all the hype and, big companies

spend 8 million, videos recouped

Your street team, retail hype and MTV and BET

Rotation radio, you know you barely sold 100,000

Don't open your mouth, turn in your masters

Your marketing plans, commercials and billboards

Big ads the cover of Vibe

Actin like you get paid, you haven't seen a check in YEARS

Don't front, you face disaster deduction from your royalties

Zero ratings, you lease Bentleys with no insurance

Your contract is up it's time to check Mase

You got the lawyer lookin at you on the next deal

You're unsuccessful, Ampex reels

I know how you fake niggaz feel



We will pray in church

We will drop sand, we will burn you

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust



[Thee Undatakerz]

Yeah, that's right

We're gonna bury you six feet deep

Six feet deep

Ha ha, hahahahahaha!



[Thee Undatakerz]

Terminatin rappers contracts, careers are done

No funds, obsolote, your bank statement read none

Triple zero you dare, when freestyles get done

Smokin sherm in cemeteries with Makaveli's son

Deep conversations, got me watchin for hate

This industry is full of jealous fake envious snakes



I squash pretty flowers, take cash, take candy from children

Run inside a bank broke and come out with a million

Fuck hangin out with niggaz runnin with problems come up

Born in killer California where niggaz ride to come up

And stay with real hustlers, livin phonies die to come up

Look at these fake thug niggaz tryin to imitate 'Pac

You ain't a gangster cause you bounce in the trey with hood flags on

Disrespect the city I'm from and get blast on

I drag niggaz names through the mud and the dirt

Undatakerz love to cut a nigga in front of his mother

We smother motherfuckers, no matter white or a brother

Famous rappers found dead, nobody gotta discover

ANYTHANG, we did it, don't gotta wonder

You don't gotta discover no evidence, we did it!

It's in your face (he's gone bury you) ha ha, y'knamsayin?

Undatakerz (he's gonna dig your grave)



[M-Balmer]

I, I-I-I

I heard it's like a jungle so I decided to send you under

Two + three and one more that be me

Make yo' head split - now that equals six!

Got yo' number picked

Got a few more stops to make before your final restin place

Stretched out on a board, body cold in the morgue

Coroner pullin off the duct tape

Mortician tryin to fix the expression on your face

But wait, Funeral Director, burial packets in his case

Embalm the room, filled with tombs

Fluid this I'm bout to lay down fools

Make a call to the rear, Tommy get their walkin pass

Holdin his nose, put some chronic in the air

Quotin scriptures (Undatakerz)

And the last prayer

(Undatakerz)