album cover
Suicidal Thoughts
1,044,759
Hip-Hop/Rap
Suicidal Thoughts fue lanzado el 13 de septiembre de 1994 por Bad Boy Records como parte del álbum Ready To Die the Remaster
album cover
Más popular
Últimos 7 días
00:40 - 00:45
Suicidal Thoughts se descubrió con más frecuencia alrededor de 40 segundos después la canción durante la última semana
00:00
00:25
00:30
00:40
00:55
01:10
01:35
01:40
01:45
01:55
02:00
02:10
02:35
00:00
02:50

Video musical

Video musical

Créditos

ARTISTAS INTÉRPRETES
The Notorious B.I.G.
The Notorious B.I.G.
Voces
COMPOSICIÓN Y LETRA
The Notorious B.I.G.
The Notorious B.I.G.
Autoría
Christopher Wallace
Christopher Wallace
Autoría
Robert Jr Hall
Robert Jr Hall
Autoría
PRODUCCIÓN E INGENIERÍA
Lord Finesse
Lord Finesse
Producción
B. Brockman
B. Brockman
Ingeniería de mezcla

Letra

[Verse 1]
When I die, **** it I wanna go to hell
'Cause I'm a piece of **** it ain't hard to **** tell
It don't make sense going to heaven with the goodie, goodies
Dressed in white, I like black Tims and black hoodies
God will probably have me on some real strict ****
No sleeping all day, no getting my **** licked
Hanging with the goodie, goodies, lounging in paradise
**** that ****, I wanna toke, ****, and shoot dice
All my life, I've 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 get a **** abortion
She don't even love me like she did when I was younger
Sucking on **** chest just to stop my **** hunger
I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes?
Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies
[Verse 2]
My baby mother's eight months, my little sister's two
Who's to blame for both of them?
(Nah **** not you)
I swear to God I want to just slit my wrists and end this bull****
Hold a magnum to my head threaten to pull ****
And **** until the bed's completely red
Glad I'm dead, a worthless **** Buddha head
The stress is building up, I can't
I can't believe suicide's on my **** mind
I wanna leave, I swear to God it feel like death is **** calling me
But nah, you wouldn't understand ****
(Talk to me, please man)
You see, it's kind of like the crack did to Poo-poo
In New Jack
Except when I cross over, it 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 mama kiss me but she glad I'm gone
She **** me and her sister had something going on
I reached my peak, **** speak
Call my ****, Cheek, tell him that my will is weak
I'm sick of n***** lying, I'm sick of n***** talking
Matter of fact, I'm sick of talking
Written by: Robert A Hall, Christopher Wallace
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out􀆄 copy􀐅􀋲

Loading...