Notorious B.I.G. - Suicidal Thoughts Lyrics




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 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
(what you're talking about man?)
It don't make sense, goin' to heaven with the goodie-goodies
Dressed in white, I like black Timbs and black hoodies

God'll probably have me on some real strict shit
No sleepin' all day, no getting my dick licked
Hangin' with the goodie-goodies loungin' in paradise
Fuck that shit, I wanna tote guns and shoot dice
(you're talking some crazy shit now nigga)

All my life I been considered as the worst
Lyin' to my mother, even stealin' out of her purse
Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion
I know my mother wish she got a fuckin' abortion

She don't even love me like she did when I was younger
(get a hold of yourself nigga)
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 8 months, her little sister's 2
Who's to blame for both of them
(no nigga, not you)

I swear to God I wanna just slit my wrists and end this bullshit
Throw the Magnum to my head, threaten to pull shit
(OK nigga what the fuck)
And squeeze, until the bed's completely red
(it is too late for this shit man)
I'm glad I'm dead,
A worthless fuckin' Buddha head
(wait a minute...)

The stress is buildin' up, I can't,
(Yo, I'm on my way over there, man)
I can't believe suicide's on my fuckin' mind
I wanna leave, I swear to God I feel like death is fuckin' callin' me
But no you wouldn't understand
(nigga, talk to me please, man)

You see it's kinda like the crack did to Pookie (the fuck), in New Jack
Except when I cross over
(ayo man, ayo man)
There ain't no comin' back
(I'm how I'mma call when I got the car),
Should I die on the train track, like Ramo in Beat Street

People at the funeral frontin' like they miss me
(yo where your girl at man?)
My baby mama kiss me
But she glad I'm gone
(yo put your girl on the phone nigga)
She know me and her sister had somethin' goin' on

I reach my peak,
(Ayo, you listening to me, motherfucker?)
I can't speak,
Call my nigga Chic,
Tell him that my will is weak.
(ayo come on nigga)
I'm sick of niggas lyin',
(cut that...)
I'm sick of bitches hawkin',
(hey yo...)
Matter of fact,
(I don't yo, yo BIG)
I'm sick of talkin'.
(hey yo chill)

(hey yo BIG, hey yo BIG)

(Please hang up and try your call again)
(Please hang up—is a recording)





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