Suicidal Thoughts Lyrics

Suicidal Thoughts lyrics

RING  RING)  

  

 (Hello? Aw shit  nigga. What the fuck time is it  man?  

 Oh god damn. Nigga do you know what time it is?  

 Aw shit  what the fuck's goin' on? You alright?  

 Aw  nigga what the fuck is wrong wit you?)  

  

 When I die  fuck it I wanna go to hell  

 Cause I'm a piece of shit  it ain't hard to fuckin' tell  

 It don't make sense  goin' to heaven wit the goodie goodies  

 Dressed in white  I like black Tims and black hoodies  

 God will probably have me on some real strict shit  

 No sleepin' all day, no gettin my dick licked  

 Hangin' with the goodie-goodies loungin' in paradise  

 Fuck that shit, I wanna tote guns and shoot dice  

 All my life I been considered as the worst  

 Lyin' to my mother, even stealin' out her purse  

 Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion  

 I know my mother wished she got a fuckin' abortion  

 She don't even love me like she did when I was younger  

 Suckin' on her chest just to stop my fuckin' hunger  

 I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes?  

 Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies  

 My babies' mothers 8 months, her little sister's 2  

 Who's to blame for both of them (naw nigga, not you)  

 I swear to God I just want to slit my wrists and end this bullshit  

 Throw the Magnum to my head, threaten to pull shit  

 And squeeze, until the bed's, completely red  

 I'm glad I'm dead, a worthless fuckin' buddah head  

 The stress is buildin' up, I can't,  

 I can't believe suicide's on my fuckin' mind  

 I want to leave, I swear to God I feel like death is fuckin' callin' me  

 Naw you wouldn't understand (nigga, talk to me please)  

 You see its kinda like the crack did to Pookie, in New Jack  

 Except when I cross over, there ain't no comin' back  

 Should I die on the train track, like Remo in Beatstreet  

 People at the funeral frontin' like they miss me  

 My baby momma kissed me but she glad I'm gone  

 She knew me and her sista had somethin' goin' on  

 I reach my peak, I can't speak,  

 call my nigga Chic, tell him that my will is weak.  

 I'm sick of niggas lyin', I'm sick of bitches hawkin',  

 matter of fact, I'm sick of talkin'.  

 (BANG)  

 (hey yo big...hey yo big