Notorious Big - Suicidal Thoughts (Rels Beats Remix) | Текст песни

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• Notorious Big
• Suicidal Thoughts (Rels Beats Remix)

When I die, fuck it, I wanna go to hell
Cause I'm a piece of shit, it ain't hard to fucking tell
It don't make sense, going to heaven with the goodie-goodies
Dressed in white, I like black Timbs and black hoodies
God'll prolly have me on some real strict shit
No sleeping all day, no getting my dick licked
Hanging with the goodie-goodies lounging in paradise
Fuck that shit, I wanna tote guns and shoot dice
All my life I been considered as the worst
Lying to my mother, even stealing out her purse
Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion
I know my mother wished she got a fucking abortion
She don't even love me like she did when I was younger
Sucking on her chest just to stop my fucking hunger
I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes
Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies
My baby mother's eight months, her little sister's two
Who's to blame for both of them
I swear to God I want to just 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 fucking buddha head
The stress is building up, I can't
I can't believe suicide's on my fucking mind, I wanna leave
I swear to God I feel like death is fucking calling me
Naw you wouldn't understand
(Nigga talk to me please, man)
You see it's kinda like the crack did to Pookie, in New Jack
Except when I cross over, there ain't no coming back
(Yo, I'mma call you when I get in the car)
Should I die on the train track, like Ramo in Beat Street
People at the funeral fronting like they miss me
My baby momma kissed me but she glad I'm gone
(Put your girl on the phone, nigga)
She knew me and her sister had something going 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 lying, I'm sick of bitches hawkin'

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