Album Cover $outh $ide $uicide

$outh $ide $uicide

$uicideBoy$

8

Outside in an all black ride

Tint rolled up when I′m high

Said they all wanna live but I just wanna dieMo-Motherfucker, if you're looking for me find me in the night

I got a knife don′t want to fight

I want to take your fucking life and end it right on sight

When I strike, if you bark better bite

Block hot, fuck the cops

Pop a six-shot Glock

Then I trot to the rocks

With me own blood clot

Red dot, bodies drop when I cock then I spot

No tomb, no plot, throw them off of the yacht

Undocked with the slot of the skull

Hanging in the fucking river, ho

$u-$uicide, 666, *59 so cynical

Got a pound in the blunt I'm loungin'

Pour another round I′m drownin′

Climb to the top I will jump off the mountain, aye

Swervin', Swervin′ in a motherfucking all white Crown Vic

Blue lights mounted, Siren howlin'

Stole it from a cop because he popped another brown kid, ayy

Got the town lit up by the flames that I made from my grey serenade

Make way for the Plague

On the 7th-day grey bodies lay in their graves

Still got the badge still got the gun

Still got the patch still got the stun

Still got the cash bitch I burn it for fun

Put the Glock to my skull then I...

Yuh, yuh, yuh

South Side $uicide, kill yourself, ho

Say you gettin′ money but your numbers don't show

You a liar, baseball bat fully wrapped in barbed wire

For anyone that′s tryna get by us

I been thinkin' a lot

I see these rappers tryna get at my spot

Robb told me you gotta get it how you live

Told that bitch "You better get up out my biz"

Pickle-breath-ass ho with a face like thizz

(Shut the fuck up)

You don't want no issue with

Nose seen more blow than most nose seen a tissue

I got anxiety so I can′t really do an interview

Don′t come close to me

I'm not the one to really do it how it′s 'sposed to be

Independent, tell the label to get over me

I′m over here with my peers gettin' rich point blank

Before I bring her to the crew make sure that bitch don′t stink

Ain't no rules to the game, talk how you want

Walk how you want, my job is the shit

I used to clean up shit from the rim of the toilet

Now I'm gettin′ money, I don′t gotta pack a pistola

Okay, maybe, cause jealousy make a man go crazy (go cray)

Money make a motherfucker hate me

One thousand bitches they all wanna date me