Suicidal Thoughts (2005 Remaster|Explicit) - The Notorious B.I.G.

Lyrics by：Lord Finesse/Notorious B.I.G./C. Wallace

Composed by：The Notorious B.I.G.

Produced by：Lord Finesse

Hello Aw s**t, n***a,

What the f**k time is it, man

Oh God d**n,

N***a do you know what time it is

Aw s**t, what the f**k's

Goin' on? You alright

Aw, n***a what the f**k

Is wrong wit you

When I die, f**k it I wanna go to hell

'Cause I'm a piece of s**t,

It ain't hard to f**kin' 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 s**t

No sleepin' all day,

No gettin' my d**k licked

Hangin' with the goodie-goodies

Loungin' in paradise

F**k that s**t,

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 d**gs to extortion

I know my mother wished

She got a f**kin' abortion

She don't even love me

Like she did when I was younger

Suckin' on her chest

Just to stop my f**kin' 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 n***a, not you

I swear to God I just want to slit

My wrists and end this bulls**t

Throw the Magnum to my head,

Threaten to pull s**t

And squeeze, until the bed's,

Completely red

I'm glad I'm dead,

A worthless f**kin' Buddha head

The stress is buildin' up, I can't

I can't believe suicide's

On my f**kin' mind

I want to leave, I swear to God

I feel like death is f**kin' callin' me

Naw you wouldn't understand

n***a, 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 Remo in Beat street

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 n***a Chic,

Tell him that my will is weak

I'm sick of n***as lyin',

I'm sick of b***hes hawkin'

Matter of fact, I'm sick of talkin'

Hey yo Big, hey yo Big