[Intro] If something happen to me... Don't put my face on no fucking shirt. Don't make me look like a legend. Do something useful. [Verse 1] Don't print my face across a tee with angel wings behind my head. Don't write “Long Live” in big letters like that shit can raise the dead. Don't pour liquor by the curb then disappear after a week. Don't tell everybody I was solid if my children need to eat. Take that shirt money, put it where my babies gotta live. Take whatever love you claim for me and show them what it is. Check on Mama when that first crowd finally leaves her house alone. Because grief gets real as fuck when everybody else goes home. Check my woman. Not to fuck her. Nicka, don't get slick. Make sure she got people around her when the loneliness get thick. Tell my children I was funny. Tell them Daddy made mistakes. Don't rewrite me as a superhero because I'm in a grave. [Hook] Don't print my face. Print my kids a better future. Don't make me a street legend if my death just fucking hurt you. Don't print my face. Don't turn my coffin into fame. If you love me while I'm breathing, say that shit before they frame my name. Don't print my face. Don't make dying look like winning. If I leave before I'm old, make sure my family keeps living. [Verse 2] I've been to too many funerals where everybody dressed fresh. People taking pictures by the casket like grief need fucking press. Two weeks later? Mama alone. Baby mama paying bills. Whole crowd that shouted “Family!” somehow suddenly got still. That taught me something ugly: We celebrate the dead better than we support the living. That's backwards. Give me flowers now. Call my phone. Come sit with me. Ask me if I'm good before a funeral makes you miss me. Don't wait until the obituary to tell the world I'm great. Some nickas need that sentence while they're breathing through the weight. Because you never know what silence somebody fighting in their head. A man can laugh at dinner then feel empty in his bed. [Pre-Chorus] Memorials are easy. Presence cost you time. Everybody got a caption. Who gon' actually show up when shit ain't online? [Hook] Don't print my face. Print my kids a better future. Don't make me a street legend if my death just fucking hurt you. Don't print my face. Don't turn my coffin into fame. If you love me while I'm breathing, say that shit before they frame my name. Don't print my face. Don't make dying look like winning. If I leave before I'm old, make sure my family keeps living. [Verse 3] And don't tell my son, “Your daddy was a real street dude.” Tell him: “Your daddy learned some lessons and he wanted more for you.” Tell my daughter nobody's love should ever make her scared. Tell them Daddy wanted decades. Birthdays. Weddings. Gray hair. Tell Mama I remember every night she stayed awake. Tell my woman every argument was never stronger than what we made. Tell my brothers break the cycle. Don't retaliate for pride. Because another fucking funeral won't somehow put me back alive. If I got enemies? Let that shit die too. Death already took enough. Don't make hatred my inheritance just because the ending rough. [Bridge] I don't wanna be immortal on a hoodie. I wanna be old. Walking slower. Talking shit. Watching grandchildren grow. That's the fucking flex. Not murals. Not candles. Not a date. Getting old enough to complain my knees hurt when I wake. [Final Hook] So don't print my face. Let me live inside the stories. Not the violence. Not the rumors. Tell the people who I really was. Don't print my face. And if tomorrow never comes, love my family louder than you ever loved the image I become. Give me flowers while I breathe. Call me now. Say what you mean. I don't want a beautiful funeral. I want a long fucking life before the scene. [Outro] No shirts. No hashtags. Just take care of mine. That's love.
