up to you bum bitches and your ten dollar dresses Big up to the big girls, y'all are so precious Salty bitches tryin' to raise a nigga blood pressure Grown little girls, do yo' mouth get any fresher? Huh? But it ain't fresh as Loso Monogrammed out, son, case you didn't know so Flow so deadly, swag too murderous Known for bein' nice, that don't mean courteous This is nothin' new, I'm not a beginner I get big checks like a lottery winner Her boy dissin' ah, boy, listen ah Kindly sent him on his way, tell the mortician hi You better holla at your homie, holla at your dog Lookin' for the competition, holla at them all Once I say hi to her, she gonna say bye to ya If looks could kill then my style might body ya B-b-body ya, b-b-body ya If looks could kill, then my style might body ya B-b-body ya, b-b-body ya If looks could kill, then my style might body ya What it look like, nigga? It's Young Funeral Told y'all niggas I got this shit nigga There Is No Competition 2: The Funeral Service What up Dram'? What it look like? Huh? What we talkin', baby? What we talkin' 'bout? These niggas is dead What we talkin' 'bout? Yeah, I said it, dead, nice Niggas might as well lay down in a hole And throw dirt on they self It's funeral