Hold Ya Head (feat. Bob Marley)

Woman hold her head and cry

'Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died

Woman hold her head and cry

'Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died

When I die, fuck it, I wanna go to hell

'Cause I'm a piece of shit, it ain't hard to fucking tell

It don't make sense going to Heaven with the goodie goodies

Dressed in white, I like black Timb's and black hoodies

God'll probably have me on some real strict shit

No sleeping all day, no getting my dick licked

Hanging with goodie goodies, lounging in paradise

Fuck that shit, I wanna tote guns 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 wished she got a fucking abortion

Woman hold her head and cry

'Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died

I swear to God, I wanna just 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 fucking Buddha head

The stress is building, up I can't

I can't believe suicide's on my fucking mind

I want to leave, I swear to God, I feel like death is fucking calling me

But, nah, you wouldn't understand

You see, it's kinda like the crack did to Pookie in New Jack

Except when I cross over, there 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 momma kissed me but she glad I'm gone

She know me and her sister had something going on

I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes?

Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies

Woman hold her head and cry

'Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died

Woman hold her head and cry

'Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died

I reach my peak, I can't speak

Call my ****, Cheek, tell him that my will is weak

I'm sick of **** lying, I'm sick of bitches hawking

Matter of fact, I'm sick of talking