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Suicidal Thoughts Lyrics

from Ready To Die

"Suicidal Thoughts" is track #14 on the album Ready To Die. It was written by Wallace, Christopher / Hall, Robert A.
"Suicidal Thoughts" is track #14 on the album Ready To Die. It was written by Wallace, Christopher / Hall, Robert A.

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Hello, aw, shit nigga
What the fuck time is it
Oh, goddamn, nigga do you know what time it is
Aw, shit, what the fuck is going on
You alright? Nigga what the fuck is wrong with 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 with the goodie-goodies
Dressed in white, I like black Tims and black hoodies
God'll prolly 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 fucking 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 baby mother's eight months, her little sister's two
Who's to blame for both of them, (naw nigga, not you)
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 fuckin' buddah 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
You see it's 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 Ramo in Beatstreet
People at the funeral fronting like they miss me
My baby momma kissed me but she glad I'm gone
She knew me and her sister 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 lying, I'm sick of bitches hawkin'
Matter of fact, I'm sick of talkin'

Ayo Big, ayo Big

Songwriters
Wallace, Christopher / Hall, Robert A

Published by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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