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Hey, Yeah |
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Come here, Wussup |
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Let me tell you something, Humm? |
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Do me this favor, What favor? |
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I want you to take care of my kids for me |
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I'll be right back, Why you doing this? |
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When they ask you about me |
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Just tell them he didn't give a **** about shit |
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That's what I want them to know |
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Cuz that's what they think anyways, alright |
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Will you be my voice? Okay |
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Will you be my feelings? |
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Finally let them know |
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[Verse 1] |
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You tell me this |
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How do you tell your kids that you addicted to drugs |
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And that your love ain't nothing to spark with to a dub |
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And even though it's just weed it got me spending up G's |
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Buying up keys and smoking my weed amongst thieves |
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I rather jack off then **** bitches |
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I'll make it crack off |
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I hit switches |
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Use to get crack off quick |
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Do the snitches |
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I use to bang up the block |
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The homie cooked up the rock |
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While I use to look up the block |
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For the po po's |
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I know my do knows |
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And my don't knows |
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Moved out the Deuce Fo to do rap shows |
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And lost a couple of homies (****) |
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Big Zo he still with me |
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He a OG |
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29th street Crip |
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That nigga know me |
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You know E it goes deep |
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Q-Ball resting in peace |
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Spent years trying to fight the tears |
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And I got new problems resting in me |
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Still crying over joyce memories |
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Still wish Sicx and X was out wit me |
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So here's my suicide note (come on) |
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Take care of my kids |
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Cuz I ain't coming back for years |
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Here's my suicide note |
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My life is a joke |
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Baby please read the letter I wrote |
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Here's my suicide note |
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Hold back the tears I'll be back in a couple of years |
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Here's my suicide note |
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Cuz my life is a joke |
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So please homie read the letter I wrote |
