When I die fuk it I wanna go to hell, Cee nova a piece of shit it hard to fukin tell, it don’t make sense goin to heaven with the lame-oids, fuk that shit I’m in line with all my homeboys, I’m getting tired with life here on earth and it only got worse, with my son birth, he 16 months ain’t seen him since 5, and his other creator upset because I’m still alive, (spinning of revolver click) she held me down whole time In the bing, I got released & started hitting everything, all of my life I been considered as the worse, momma goin to sleep had to hide her fukin purse, pops won’t there because I thought he didn’t care, the day before he died he looked me in my eyes, did some research pops won’t a jerk, history repeats itself, same way it happened to him in the past I’m getting put on a shelf , (spinning of revolver click) the walls of my empire falling apart everywhere I look, I gotta go see the judge I wanna end the book(CEE TALK TO ME PLEASE) it’s sort of like Willie Dynamite at the end, walking down the street with no fukin friends, everybody say pray, and I just say ok, but what’s the sense in that when I’ma end it all today, anything you can salvage from my estate go to my son, tell him daddy loved him even though he don’t know me haven’t held him since day one, I’m sick of all the broads lying I’m sick of dudes hating.. Matter of fact, why the fuk I’m waiting(spinning of revolver bang)
MENTAL HEALTH IS A SERIOUS ISSUE IN THE AFRICAN AMERICAN COMMUNITY. I WROTE THIS IN PROBABLY ABOUT 2012. LUCKILY THIS IS JUST A INTERPOLATION OF THE LATE GREAT NOTORIOUS B.I.G. SUICIDAL THOUGHTS. I WAS THERE IF I COULD RELATE ENOUGH TO WRITE THIS. REMEMBER GOD COMES TO PICK YOU UP WHEN HE NEEDS YOU DON’T HAVE TO CATCH A RIDE. BEFORE YOU CALL THAT RIDE CALL THIS NUMBER FOR A BETTER RIDE
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