Kill Yourself (Part II) – $uicideboy$

Letra $uicideboy$ – Kill Yourself (Part II)

They figured me a dead motherfuc***
Calling me James Spleen without a cause of death
I be the reaper with the black hood on his head
Yung Snow with the blood red sled
Puppet master, bodies hanging on a thread, motherfuc***
Got a grey blade tatted on my wrist
I don’t really need to cut it anymore, and I don’t really need a bitch
Let her rot in the hole
Months later she was found, just a skull
She was missing all her bones
Got her headless skeleton hanging on my wall, looking elegant
Black suede element
Packing blades
Lacking Benjamins
Horns on my head looking like the tusks of a grey elephant
Looking for my medicine
Plucking the bud off of a nug
Roll it up in a blunt
Now I feel fuc*** dead again
Looking for a place to belong
So I say f*** God f*** the motherfucking President
Address the American residents with just a knife and the help of a relative
Yeah, that’s $lick $loth
Both of us buried
“Ruby Da Cherry” under a criss-crossed cross
Covered up with a little bit of moss
Looking like a glossed out Yung Jack Frost
Paid the cost to be the boss
Now I ain’t fuc*** dead, but my life has been lost, uh

Isn’t it so convincing how I’m breathing down your neck?
Junkies in the back, loading up the TEC
F*** her one time—now I’m done
Homicide any time for the thrill
One, two, three, four pills
You know a junkie can’t afford to get help
See me I don’t f*** with you suckers
They call me the shooter like I play for Rucker
Smokey on Friday, they call me Chris Tucker
I swear on my life I don’t f*** with you fuck***
$uicide cock it back one time, and I shoot it
Keep it lowkey always gotta keep it moving
Bitches be worried ‘bout what I am doing
Cause they love $licky so much all because of my music
It’s the MAC with the gat that goes click-clack
Shoot a motherfuck*** back
Brains go splat
No time for a rat, hoe