Dead Men Can't Rap - Lil' 1/2 Dead

It’s Half Dead so a nigga gots to see death twice

To realize that this gun ain’t nothing nice

The price you pay today might be your last

Cause on this Eastside niggas move fast

I spent too many years on the street surviving

Struggle and striving on the Sunday ground conniving

I got broads that can bust or break

When Half Dead spank that ass with his gank

Now you can say that I’m a dead man walking

Cause I’m stalking, but half of my body is in the coffin

I’m serving 33 years to life, I holds my mic

When I rolls mother fuckers like dice

The gin and juice gets me loose, I’m fly like Spruce Goose

Every now and then I have to drink an deuce, deuce

To maintain my composure, light up the doja

Mack and kick back while I peel some caps

The moon and the sky, the concrete and dirt

Work is puts in and bodies begin to jerk

He looks as though he’s frozen, his body’s decomposing

But that’s the life that he’s chosen

Who the hell said dead men can’t man rap?

Who?

What?

Who the hell said dead man can’t man rap?

Who?

What?

(Now motherfuckers can’t face the facts that I’m doing this)

Who the hell said dead man can’t man rap?

Who?

What?

Who the hell said dead man can’t man rap?

Who?

What?

(Now motherfuckers can’t face the facts that I’m doing this)

I rose to through the spot at night

I got this AK 47, and black folks thinking heaven (damn)

I much love depressed death, I step

But one time ride around vest

Know check it, they won’t to cuff me try and to scuff me up

But unlike Rocky they can’t stop me

Because it feels like October 30th

Halloween eve, niggas get relieved

And start doing dirt and putting in much work

I really gives an mad fuck about getting hurt

So run up in my face, if you dare

I got my gun in the air and I don’t care, huh

I put you flat on your back, your face’ll crack

When the nine millimeter goes smack

And yeah, now how really like that?

And who the hell said dead man can’t rap?

As I return from the graveyard I’m bruised, battled and scarred

But hard times giving props to hip hop

Another psychedelic G funk era, pause in terror

Grab your seats as I prepare the

Execution, my solution, to all men

Praised the duty to stay in mind that I’m in as I bend

The corner sipping juice and gin

Roll down the windows, let the indo smoke blow in the wind

It’s me, the H-A-L-F D-E-A and to the D

I’m straight coming from the LBC

I pocket all the dough in '94

And all y’all buster ass niggas really don’t hear me though

I gots to make a grip and have a extra clip

So everytime me and homies are rolling to dip

We can put a nigga flat on his back

And who the hell say dead man can’t rap