What the fuck time is it man, oh god damn, nigga do you know what time it is, I don't know. When I die fuck it I wanna go to hell, cause I'm a piece of shit it ain't hard to fucking tell. It don't make sense going to heaven with the goodie goodies, dressed in white, I like black timbs and black hoodies. God'll probably have me on some real strict shit, no sleeping all day, no getting my dick licked. Hanging with the goodie goodies, lounging in paradise, fuck that shit, I wanna tote guns and shoot dice. All my life I've 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 wish she got a fucking abortion. She don't even love me like she did when I was younger, sucking 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 mother's 8 months, her little sister's 2, who's to blame for both of them? Nah nigga not you. I swear to God I wanna just slit my wrists and end this bullshit, throw the magnum to my head, threaten to pull shit, and squeeze until the bends commit me red. I'm glad I'm dead, my worthless fucking Buddha head, the stress is building up, I can't, I can't believe suicide's on my fucking mind. I wanna leave, I swear to God I feel like death is fucking calling me, but nah you wouldn't understand. You see it's kinda like the crack did to Pookie and New Jack, except when I cross over, they don't know I'm coming back. So I die on the train track like Rainbow and Duke Street, people at the funeral fronting like they missing me. My baby mama kissed me but she glad I'm gone, she told me and her sister had something going on. I reach my peak, I can't speak, call my nigga Cheek, tell him that my will is weak, I'm sick of niggas lying, I'm sick of bitches hawking, matter of fact, I'm sick of talking. *