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gangsters pain - rimbos lyrics

[verse 1: rimbos]

when i die, f*ck it
i wanna go to h*ll cause i’m a piece of sh*t
it ain’t hard to f*ckin’ tell
it don’t make sense going to heaven with the goodie*goodies
he dress in white
i like black timbs and black hoodies
god will probably have me on some real strict sh*t
no sleeping all day no getting my d*ck l!cked
hanging with the goodie*goodies, loungin’ in paradise
f*ck that sh*t i want to talk guns and shoot dice
all my life i’ve been considered as the worst
lyin’ to my mother even stealing out her purse
crimе after crime, drugs to extortion
i know my mothеr wish she got a f*ckin’ abortion
she don’t even love me like she did when i was younger
sucking on a chest just to stop my f*cking hunger
i wonder if i died with tears come to her eyes?
forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies
but baby mother’s eight months a little sister too
who’s the blame for both of them?
i swear to god i want to just slit my wrist and end this bullsh*t
throw the magnum to my head, threatened to pull sh*t and squeeze
until the bed’s completely red, i’m glad i’m dead
i work with f*cking buddha head
the stress is building i can’t*
i can’t believe suicides on my f*cking mind
i wanna leave i swear to god, i feel like death is f*cking calling me
but nah, you wouldn’t understand
you see it’s kind of like the crack did the pookie, in new jack except when i cross over, there ain’t no coming back
should i die on the train track like ramo in the beat street?
people at the funerals frontin’ like they miss me
my baby momma kiss me but she glad i am gone, she know me and her sister had something going on
i reach my peak
i can’t speak for my n*gga chic, tell him that my will is weak
i’m sick of n*ggas lying, i’m sick of b*tches hawking
matter of fact, sick of talking
[intro]

- rimbos lyrics

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