album cover
artist
The Notorious B.I.G.
Suicidal Thoughts
1,067,596
Hip-Hop/Rap
Suicidal Thoughts was released on September 13, 1994 by Bad Boy Records as a part of the album Ready To Die the Remaster
album cover
Most Popular
Past 7 Days
00:40 - 00:45
Suicidal Thoughts was discovered most frequently at around 40 seconds into the song during the past week
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OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
The Notorious B.I.G.
The Notorious B.I.G.
Vocals
Brethren
Brethren
Sampled Artist
Miles Davis
Miles Davis
Sampled Artist
Puff Daddy
Puff Daddy
Background 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

Lyrics

[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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