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[M-Balmer] It's like a million cars deep, in this cemetary I'm dressed in black, high heels, black veil, and a strap Homies sheddin tears about it, reminscin Older yesteryears, how we kicked it there [F.D.] It's a great day for undataking [R.T.] Jim, back the truck up [F.D.] I'm backin it up a little further [R.T.] Hurry up, back the truck up [F.D.] Gotchu [Reverand Tom - Kool Keith] A hundred percent of you think you're popular I haven't watched cable and television, in 20 years You catch the hook I don't even know how the average jackass with a jersey look Check the format, Mr. and Mrs. Unknown I'm like the Amish people Candles, no phone, although jocked by many stars who copy me, still on my bone - been ridin limos Watching crossing guards move you to the Immature zone From top to middle, down to the bottom You face the highway, lookin at Leatherface Three miles away, you'll be in wrong place I will make the move with the truck SongtexteThe Funeral Director, will come with his own black suit and that spector, to step in his ride Will we see, when the cow walks at night midnight with the leather hide I will walk and stand in the dark zone, with the light, from the lamp This is no sleepaway camp [Funeral Director] That's right, I am, the Funeral Director And we do not, run, a sleepaway camp here We only, take [Thee Undatakerz] Manic depressive, mental patient In a basement smokin wet in the morgue With a swordfight, cat up, runnin meditatin Without no ouiji board My omnipotent potential crush skulls Chewin through yo' favorite rapper's nails Walkin with body parts in L-A-X airport With a briefcase kept confidential A natural born menace runnin loose through yo' neighborhood residential Urban suburban section a killin machine, with 187 credentials My bladin through South Central, South Bronx, walkin through South Chicago Ivan Durago, Red Dragon, Hannibal Canibal, chewin through human jawbones Handle your mandible with a iron claw, black iron eagle with evil thoughts I release human form, drink blood drops Love to watch when a body drops, when the shotty pops, better drop When I strike yo' turf, cause if you don't run and hide, it's suicide I'ma stun yo' hide, and leave you - six feet underneath the earth Serial killer like Ted Bundy, on the mic I'm Adolf Hitler Far worse than Osama Bin Laden, plottin on hell When I get there I'ma kill the devil first, then put his head up for sale Put his head out for sale, put his head up for sale [Funeral Director] {*laughing*} Yes, we will, put his head up for sale His heart, his liver His whole, internal, organs We don't play here We Undatake, here So remember It's a Grave, Undataking {*laughing to end*} Aus Songtexte Mania