Released: August 27, 2014
Songwriter: Aristos Petrou Scott Arceneaux Jr.
Producer: Budd Dwyer
[Verse 1: YUNG CHRIST]
Thirty golds up in my mouth, but they don't fit my teeth no more
Nose ring up in my snout, guess I ain't too street no more
"All you rap about is death
Everything is so depressed
How you gonna get some press?
How you gonna come up next?"
But I could give a fuck about a check
I'd rather go and cut my neck
Put a bullet up in my vest
Put a knife up in my chest and do some drugs, let people gossip Under my tongue, yeah, that's suboxone
Oxycontin, bitch, I'm toxic
Dirty cracker, bitch, I'm rotten
Top to bottom, $uicide, G, to the 5, to the 9
Yung Christ, $lick $loth
Risin' out that slime, killers with minds
Lo-fi Columbine
Kill them all with time
Kill them all with time (Rah, rah, rah, rah)
[Verse 2: JAMES $PLEEN]
Too fire to hit the blunt, might pack it up and head out the front
Sayonara sucker
This ain't a gun up to my head, it's a brain hugger
Painting the ceiling with little pieces
Killin' myself, I don't really need a reason
Death is the reason that I'm breathin'
Yeah, I'm beatin' my heart, but my heart doesn't stop beatin'
Guess I'm that dead motherfucker
Call me James $pleen, I'm that dead motherfucker
Dead pimp, pimpin' dead ass ho's
Tangled clothes, rotten ass bodies at my show
Close the door and throw me in the hole, here come the crows Overdose on overly overcast skies
This is my goodbye side, $uicide ridin' with the tubes tied
You might think I'm shy, but I just really don't wanna fucking meet you
Kill yo'self
Thirty golds up in my mouth, but they don't fit my teeth no more
Nose ring up in my snout, guess I ain't too street no more
"All you rap about is death
Everything is so depressed
How you gonna get some press?
How you gonna come up next?"
But I could give a fuck about a check
I'd rather go and cut my neck
Put a bullet up in my vest
Put a knife up in my chest and do some drugs, let people gossip Under my tongue, yeah, that's suboxone
Oxycontin, bitch, I'm toxic
Dirty cracker, bitch, I'm rotten
Top to bottom, $uicide, G, to the 5, to the 9
Yung Christ, $lick $loth
Risin' out that slime, killers with minds
Lo-fi Columbine
Kill them all with time
Kill them all with time (Rah, rah, rah, rah)
[Verse 2: JAMES $PLEEN]
Too fire to hit the blunt, might pack it up and head out the front
Sayonara sucker
This ain't a gun up to my head, it's a brain hugger
Painting the ceiling with little pieces
Killin' myself, I don't really need a reason
Death is the reason that I'm breathin'
Yeah, I'm beatin' my heart, but my heart doesn't stop beatin'
Guess I'm that dead motherfucker
Call me James $pleen, I'm that dead motherfucker
Dead pimp, pimpin' dead ass ho's
Tangled clothes, rotten ass bodies at my show
Close the door and throw me in the hole, here come the crows Overdose on overly overcast skies
This is my goodbye side, $uicide ridin' with the tubes tied
You might think I'm shy, but I just really don't wanna fucking meet you
Kill yo'self
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