Suicidal thoughts Lyrics – Lord Finesse

Suicidal thoughts Lyrics – Lord Finesse


[Intro: Puff Daddy]
Hello?
Aw shit, nigga! 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 aight?
Ah, nigga, what the fuck is wrong with you?

[Verse: The Notorious B.I.G. & Puff Daddy]
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 talkin’ ’bout, man?)
It don’t make sense, goin’ to heaven with the goodie-goodies
Dressed in white, I like black Timbs and black hoodies (Aw, man)
God’ll probably 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 (You talkin’ some crazy shit now, nigga)
All my life I been considered as the worst
Lyin’ to my mother, even stealin’ out her purse (Ah)
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 (Yo, 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 (You’re buggin’, B)
My baby mother’s eight months, her little sister’s two
Who’s to blame for both of them?
(Nah, 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
(Nigga, what the fuck?)
And squeeze until the bed’s completely red
(It’s too late for this shit, man)
I’m glad I’m dead, a worthless fuckin’ buddha head
The stress is buildin’ up, I can’t— I can’t believe (Ayo, I’m on my way over there, man)
Suicide’s on my fuckin’ mind, I wanna leave
I swear to God I feel like death is fuckin’ callin’ me
But nah, 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 comin’ back
(Ayo, ayo, man, I’m out)
Should I die on the train track like Ramo in Beat Street?
(I’ma call you when I get in the car)
People at the funeral frontin’ like they miss me
(Ayo, 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, I can’t speak (Ayo, you listenin’ to me, motherfucker?)
Call my nigga Chic, tell him that my will is weak
(Ayo, c’mon, nigga)
I’m sick of niggas lyin’ (Cut that), I’m sick of bitches hawkin’ (Ayo)
Matter of fact, I’m sick of talkin’
(Nigga, yo, yo, Big! Ayo, chill!)
*Gunshot*
Ayo, Big! Ayo, Big!

Kim Petras ‘If Jesus Was a Rockstar’ Official Lyrics & Meaning | Verified
[Outro]
Please hang up and try your call again
Please hang up— Is a recording



Produced By:Lord Finesse
Written By:The Notorious B.I.G. & Lord Finesse
Mixed At:The Hit Factory (New York City)
Copyright:Bad Boy Entertainment
Publisher:B.I.G. Poppa Music, Technician Tunes, Justin Combs Music & EMI April Music
Performance Rights:ASCAP
Additional Vocals:Diddy
Recording Engineer:“Bassy” Bob Brockmann
Mixing Engineer:“Bassy” Bob Brockmann
Mastering Engineer:Carlton Batts
Label:Bad Boy Entertainment & Arista Records
Recorded At:The Hit Factory (New York City)
Release Date:September 13, 1994