Kill Yourself (Part II)
They figured me a dead motherfuckerCalling me James SpleenWithout a cause of death I be the reaper with the black hood on his headYung Snow with the blood red sledPuppet masterBodies hanging on a thread motherfuckerGot a grey blade tatted on my wristI don't really need to cut it anymore and I don't really need a bitchLet her rot in the holeMonths later she was found just a skullShe was missing all her bonesGot her headless skeleton hanging on my wall looking elegantBlack suede elementPacking bladesLacking BenjaminsHorns on my head looking like the tusks of a grey elephantLooking for my medicinePlucking the bud off of a nugRoll it up in a bluntNow I feel fucking dead againLooking for a place to belongSo i say fuck God fuck the motherfucking PresidentAddress the American residence with just a knife and the help of a relativeYeah that's $lick $lothBoth of us buried Ruby da Cherry under a criss-crossed crossCovered up with a little bit of mossLooking like a glossed out Yung Jack FrostPaid the cost to be the bossNow I ain't fucking dead but my life has been lost
Isn't it so convincing how I'm breathing down your neck?Junkies in the back loading up the tecFuck her one time now I'm doneHomicide any time for the thrillOne, two, three, four pillsYou know a junkie can't afford to get illSee me I don't fuck with you suckasThey call me the shooter like I play for RuckerSmokey on Friday they call me Chris TuckerI swear on my life I don't fuck with you fuckers$uicide cock it back one time and I shoot itKeep it low key always gotta keep it movingBitches be worried bout what I am doingCuz they love $licky so much all because of my musicIt's the Mac with the gat that goes click clack shoot a mother fuckers backBrains go splatNo time for a rat ho