Text: Solomon Childs. Funeral Talk (The Eulogy). Flames.

[Intro: Solomon Childs]
Word (uh-huh) Aiyo, son
(Yeah) ... fuckin' ass son (uh-huh)
(Yeah, uh-huh) Them niggaz don't fuckin' want it
(My motion picture) word up (Yeah, come on)

[Chorus x2: Solomon Childs]
The Theodore Unit, and we ain't one for games
Dirt ball niggaz throwin' dirt on my name
And keep thinking that you bang with big boys
Watch you drown in a barrel of flames

[Solomon Childs]
I'm on my job, like TNT, on Tuesdays and Thursdays
But that don't mean, you can't get ya head popped off
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, baby doll
Your head game ain't good enough
You can't ride shotgun in the Jag'
2003 rock, came back in the lab
Straight out of West Brighton Projects
Beef patties with cheese, from the neighborhood arabs
And I'mma thug, so I'mma never drop my rag
Dedicated to the Gods, in maximum security yards
With the rifles, grew up in the dark
The older niggaz, puttin' bullet holes in the light poles
I'll microphone marry you kids, life's a bitch
The wild bids, scriptures stolen from the Solomon book
My motion picture... and don't had to mean, I had to get cha
Ok, a game of love and hate, cuz you can share the spotlight with Luther
Or you can be sharing the front page with Hussein, this ain't a game

[Outro: Solomon Childs]
Don't have us come out our skin (no way man
You wouldn't wanna see that) Theodore Unit: The Movie
(Yeah, God) Paragraphs, motherfucker
(Bury 'em alive) Get up, with me (murder
Pass around the ball) Huh? Yeah...