Suicidal Thoughts II CTA Beats

[Verse: Notorious B.I.G.]
When I die, fuck it I want to go to hell
'Cause I'm a piece of shit, it ain't hard to fucking to tell
What don't make sense: going to heaven with the goodie-goodies
Dressed in white? I like black Timbs' and black hoodies
Ya'll probably have me on some real strict shit
No sleeping all day, no gettin' my dick licked
Hanging with the goodie-goodies, lounging in paradise
Fuck that shit, I wanna toke guns and shoot dice
All my life I 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
She don't even love me like she did when I was younger
Suckin' on her chest just to stop my fucking hunger
I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes?
Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies
My baby brothers eight months, my little sisters two
Who's to blame for both of them?
I swear that all I wanna do just slit my wrists and end this bullshit
Throw the magnum to my head, threaten to pull shit and squeeze
Until the beds completely red
I'm glad I'm dead, I work this fucking Buddahead
The stress is building up, I can't-, I can't believe suicides on my fucking mind
I wanna leave, I swear to God I feel like death is fucking calling me
And nah, you wouldn't understand
You see, it's kinda like the crack did the pookie, and New Jack
Except when I cross over, there ain't no coming back
Shit, I die on the train track like Waymo and [?]
People at the funeral, frontin' like they miss me
My baby mama kiss me, but she glad I'm gone
She know me and her sister had somethin' goin' on
I reached my peak, I can't speak
Call one in the cheek, tell 'em that my will is weak
I'm sick of niggas lying, I'm sick of bitches hawking
Matter fact, I'm sick of talking