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Notorious Big - Suicidal Thoughts (Nuck Chorris Remix)
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https://www.kolaymp3indir.com/watch?v=M6eF1fE_9NU
Lyrics
When I die, f*** it, I wanna go to hell
Cause I'm a piece of sh*t, it ain't hard to f***ing 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 sh*t
No sleeping all day, no getting my dick licked
Hanging with the goodie-goodies lounging in paradise
F*ck that sh*t, 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 wish she got a f***ing abortion
She don't even love me like she did when I was younger
Sucking on her chest just to stop my f***ing 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 bullsh*t
Throw the Magnum to my head, threaten to pull sh*t
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 f***ing mind, I wanna leave
I swear to God I feel like death is f***ing calling me
But nah, you wouldn't understand
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
Should I die on the train track, like Ramo in Beat Street
People at the funeral fronting like they miss me
My baby momma kiss me but she glad I'm gone
She know me and her sister had some'n 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 ni ggas lying, I'm sick of b*tches hawkin'
Matter of fact, I'm sick of talking