[Intro: J-R3d]

Ladies, gentleman

I would like to thank you for attending this funeral

Of these shitty, shitty ass rappers

Not to mourn, but to rejoice

Because a new group has emerged called RUMR

That consists of J-R3d, Ric Da Vinci, and Mugen Styles

Don't fear

We came to save y'all

[Verse 1: J-R3d]

R.I.P to shitty rappers ain't gon' be no eulogy

Rip that corny chain and throw they bodies where the sewers be

Now usually I be preaching unity

But so much fuckin scrutiny

It turned my mood to be remove the foolery

Manuever thru the beef this nothing new to me

The brew is sick, there's no immunity

I turn the beat from G to R, I ain't talking nudity

Y'all never losing me, my tank is never E

I aiming for you porks, call me Everdeen

My bars be breakin' borders

Stabbing y'all deli orders

Y'all slower than a tortoise

Finna slide in up your quarters

I will kill y'all niggas for a quarter

Y'all 1/4 of me

Death certificate in hand

That's my fourth degree

Y'all not forcing me

I forcefully destroy the beat

Abortion speed

Forks to beef

I'm OP

Them niggas OD

I mop your whole team

My flow is molting

Put the tac up in your back like Mick Foley

Slit your fuckin' wrist a new Roley

[Verse 2: Ric Da Vinci]

Lately I been on a roll like butter

I make copy/paste con-artists stu-stu-studder

Mumbling, fumbling through a 16

I paint better than Sistine

Athletes foot treated on wrists please

No more challenges y’all throwing clocks in trash

Wasting time

I got too many rhymes to turn down like curfews

Leave the volume up, King

The way I'm turning tables you giving me the money like check please

Y’all guarding (garden) but y'all sick from the way I flew over I'm the only one blessing me

Right on the bread like a sesame

Evidently you see the looks they sending me when funeral's on

I got a Rottweiler pedigree with no-one ahead of me

No sedative can settle me

Imperative to just let ‘em in

Ain’t no use for the leash

A minute in you regretting this

This verse finna tear a bite in ya terabyte

So I'mma just try to keep this PC

Ain’t no shot like y'all been lobbing it

Y'all been trotting while I been sprinting

I work so I won’t be forgotten

No pause in breathe between the verse like I'm non-responsive

I clinically pass away when I pass the bar

Every deal I sign come with a will to win that I’d die for it Practically commit suicide when I spit

They look at me in the booth and ask me “U K?” like I'm a Brit

I'm laying bar after bar like a Mason while y'all wither away like a raisin in broad day

Mugen go I'm off it

[Verse 3: Mugen]

744-889-7277 (SHI-TTY-RAPS)

Let’s see if these motherfuckers answer

Ahh yep, see

They fucking dead

They fucking dead

Cut ya lifeline

Time of death

The second a breath

Left the mess of a vessel

You infested and neglect

It’s a pattern of disrespect

Shitty rappers born in the future

They really seem to miss the tech

Living nine lives like a feline

But at the same damn time

I see rhymes, excrete lines

Still better than anything you spit in your whole damn life

These shitty ass rappers don’t even deserve a funeral

Who knew

There’d be so many people

Who think they can rap

But ain’t got it like that

I said

Who knew

There’d be so many people

Who think they can rap

But they all come with the cap

Steady tokin’ (token)

Like I’m playing craps

This shit slaps

So sit back

Let RUMR lower the casket

And if you looking for the crown

Well baby, you already know who has it