kill yourself part ii
They figured me a dead motherfucker
Calling me James $pleen without a cause of death
I be the reaper with the black hood on his head
Yung $now with the blood-red sled
Puppet Master, bodies hangin' on a thread, motherfucker
Got a grey blade tatted on my wrist
I don't really need to cut it anymore, and I don't really need a bitch
Let her rot in the hole, months later she was found
Just a skull, she was missin' all her bones
Got her headless skeleton hangin' on my wall, looking elegant
Black suede element, packing blades, lacking Benjamins
Horns on my head, looking like the tusks of a grey elephant
Looking for my medicine, pluckin' the bud off of a nug
Roll it up in a blunt, now I feel fucking dead again
Looking for a place to belong, so I say, "Fuck God, fuck the motherfucking president"
Address the American residents
With just a knife and the help of a relative
Yeah, that's $lick $loth
Both of us buried, "Ruby da Cherry" under a criss-crossed cross
Covered up with a little bit of moss
Looking like a glossed-out Yung Jack Frost
Paid the cost to be the boss, now I ain't fucking dead
But my life has been lost, uh
Isn't it so convincing how I'm breathin' down yo' neck?
Junkies in the back, loadin' up the TEC
Fuck her one time, now I'm done
Homicide any time for the thrill
One, two, three, four pills
You know a junkie can't afford to get ill
See me? I don't fuck with you suckers
They call me the shooter like I play for Rucker
Smokey on Friday, they call me Chris Tucker
I swear on my life, I don't fuck with you fuckers
$uicide, cock it back one time, and I shoot it
Keep it lowkey, always gotta keep it moving
Bitches be worried 'bout what I am doing
'Cause they love $licky so much all because of my music
It's the MAC with the gat, that goes click-clack
Shoot a motherfuckers back, brains go splat
No time for a rat, ho
$ui, $ui-cide
$uicide
$ui, $ui-cide
$ui, $ui-cide
$uicide
$uicide
$ui, $ui-cide
$uicide
$ui, $ui-cide
$ui, $ui-cide
$uicide
$uicide