When I die, fuck it I wanna go to hell
Cause I'm a piece of shit, it ain't hard to fuckin' tell
It don't make sense, goin' to heaven wit the goodie-goodies
Dressed in white, I like black Tims and black hoodies
God will probably have me on some real strict shit
No sleepin' all day, no gettin my dick licked
Hangin' with the goodie-goodies loungin' in paradise
Fuck that shit, I wanna tote guns and shoot dice
All my life I been considered as the worst
Lyin' to my mother, even stealin' out her purse
Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion
I know my mother wished she got a fuckin' abortion
She don't even love me like she did when I was younger
Suckin' on her chest just to stop my fuckin' hunger
I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes?
Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies
My babies' mothers 8 months, her little sister's 2
Who's to blame for both of them (naw nigga, not you)
I swear to God I just want to 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 fuckin' buddah head
The stress is buildin' up, I can't,
I can't believe suicide's on my fuckin' mind
I want to leave, I swear to God I feel like death is fuckin' callin' me
Naw you wouldn't understand (nigga, talk to me please)
You see its kinda like the crack did to Pookie, in New Jack
Except when I cross over, there ain't no comin' back
Should I die on the train track, like Remo in Beatstreet
People at the funeral frontin' like they miss me
My baby momma kissed me but she glad I'm gone
She knew me and her sista had somethin' goin' on
I reach my peak, I can't speak,
call my nigga Chic, tell him that my will is weak.
I'm sick of niggas lyin', I'm sick of bitches hawkin',
matter of fact, I'm sick of talkin'.
BIG UP TO BROOKLYN
Best form of revenge is success.
Stop being a bitch and go make something of yourself so when she's getting stuffed and beaten by her balding alcoholic plumber husband in their shitty 1-bedroom apartment with 3 shitty little fuckbrat kids and spots you rollin' down the street in some fuckin' M3 with some hot piece of italian ass she'll be the one going "OH GOD LIFE SUCKS /BLADOW".
Shit happens to all of us. This is not gonna be the first time when something fucks you up. The only thing left is to learn from this and move the fuck on. Also, find someone to talk to: family, friends, priest, Ksandra, etc.
Stop being so fucking:
http://i26.tinypic.com/2agnccx.jpg
So what's gonna be, Cobain'd:
http://i30.tinypic.com/dbkqki.jpg
OR Bitches:
http://i29.tinypic.com/66eo9h.jpg
See you in 3 months Elites. Stop trying to feel better - nothing you can do (talking to her, not talking to her, crying on the internet, crying IRL, fucking other girls, getting high, offing yourself, whatever) NOTHING is going to make you feel better. Stop trying to feel better.
Stop trying to feel better.
Stop trying to feel better.
Got it?
See you in 3 months - enjoy how shitty they will be.
So what is this thread about?
It is a thread about you, Kuya.
kuya, why couldn't your name be something delicious like yuka
go make some mistakes so you can regret those and forget whatever made you go on a worse downward spiral than the the place you were at when you felt like being reckless
then find god
So this is a thread about vegetables.
When do we toss the salad?
Before the guest arrive
I don't want this salad, will someone please toss it for me
Howie roary, you will toss that salad and you will like it.
seriously these names tyven uses are just addicting
will there be yuka and onions in that salad?