album cover
artist
The Notorious B.I.G.
Suicidal Thoughts
1 064 016
Hip-Hop/Rap
Utwór Suicidal Thoughts został wydany 13 września 1994 przez Bad Boy Records jako część albumu Ready To Die the Remaster
album cover
Najpopularniejszy
Ostatnie 7 dni
00:40 - 00:45
Suicidal Thoughts był najczęściej odkrywanym utworem w czasie około 40 sekundy do w ciągu ostatniego tygodnia
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PRZEGLĄD

TEKST UTWORU

Teledysk

Teledysk

Kredyty

PERFORMING ARTISTS
The Notorious B.I.G.
The Notorious B.I.G.
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
The Notorious B.I.G.
The Notorious B.I.G.
Songwriter
Christopher Wallace
Christopher Wallace
Songwriter
Robert Jr Hall
Robert Jr Hall
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Lord Finesse
Lord Finesse
Producer
B. Brockman
B. Brockman
Mixing Engineer

Tekst Utworu

[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

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