| Artist/Band: 
Notorious B.I.G. Lyrics for Song: Suicidal Thoughts
 Lyrics for Album: Ready To Die [1994]
 
 
 
 3286>(RING, RING)
 
 
 
 (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 wit 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 wit the goodie-goodies
 
 Dressed in white, I like black Tims and black hoodies
 
 God will 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
 
 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 fuckin' 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 babies' mothers 8 months, her little sister's 2
 
 Who's to blame for both of them (naw nigga, not you)
 
 I swear to God I just want to 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 buildin' up, I can't,
 
 I can't believe suicide's on my fuckin' mind
 
 I want to leave, I swear to God I feel like death is fuckin' callin' me
 
 Naw you wouldn't understand (nigga, talk to me please)
 
 You see its 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 Beatstreet
 
 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 nigga Chic, tell him that my will is weak.
 
 I'm sick of niggas lyin', I'm sick of bitches hawkin',
 
 matter of fact, I'm sick of talkin'.
 
 (BANG)
 
 (hey yo big...hey yo big)
 
 3286>
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