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letra de suicidal thoughts - the notorious b.i.g.

[intro: puff daddy]
h-llo?
aw sh-t, n-gga! the f-ck time is it, man?
oh, god d-mn
n-gga, do you know what time it is?
aw sh-t, what the f-ck’s goin’ on?
you aight?
ah, n-gga, what the f-ck is wrong with you?

[verse: the notorious b.i.g. & puff daddy]
when i die, f-ck it, i wanna go to h-ll
’cause i’m a piece of sh-t, it ain’t hard to f-ckin’ tell (what you talkin’ ’bout, man?)
it don’t make sense, goin’ to heaven with the goodie-goodies
dressed in white, i like black timbs and black hoodies (aw, man)
god’ll probably have me on some real strict sh-t
no sleepin’ all day, no gettin’ my d-ck l!cked
hangin’ with the goodie-goodies, loungin’ in paradise
f-ck that sh-t, i wanna tote guns and shoot dice (you talkin’ some crazy sh-t now, n-gga)
all my life i been considered as the worst
lyin’ to my mother, even stealin’ out her purse (ah)
crime after crime, from drugs to extortion
i know my mother wish she got a f-ckin’ abortion
she don’t even love me like she did when i was younger (yo, get a hold of yourself, n-gga)
suckin’ on her chest just to stop my f-ckin’ hunger
i wonder; if i died, would tears come to her eyes?
forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies (you’re buggin’, b)
my baby mother’s eight months, her little sister’s two
who’s to blame for both of them? (nah, n-gga, not you)
i swear to god i want to just slit my wrists and end this bullsh-t
throw the magnum to my head, threaten to pull sh-t (n-gga, what the f-ck?)
and squeeze until the bed’s completely red (it’s too late for this sh-t, man)
i’m glad i’m dead, a worthless f-ckin’ buddha head
the stress is buildin’ up, i can’t— i can’t believe (ayo, i’m on my way over there, man)
suicide’s on my f-ckin’ mind, i wanna leave
i swear to god i feel like death is f-ckin’ callin’ me
but nah, you wouldn’t understand
n-gga, talk to me please, man!
you see, it’s kinda like the crack did to pookie in new jack
except when i cross over, there ain’t no comin’ back (ayo, ayo, man, i’m out)
should i die on the train track like ramo in beat street? (i’ma call you when i get in the car)
people at the funeral frontin’ like they miss me (ayo, where your girl at, man?)
my baby mama kiss me, but she glad i’m gone (yo, put your girl on the phone, n-gga!)
she know me and her sister had somethin’ goin’ on
i reach my peak, i can’t speak (ayo, you listenin’ to me, motherf-cker?)
call my n-gga chic, tell him that my will is weak (ayo, c’mon, n-gga)
i’m sick of n-ggas lyin’ (cut that), i’m sick of b-tches hawkin’ (ayo)
matter of fact, i’m sick of talkin’ (n-gga, yo, yo, big! ayo, chill!)
-gunshot-
ayo, big! ayo, big!

[outro]
please hang up and try your call again
please hang up— is a recording

- the notorious b i g

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