South Side Suicide Lyrics | Suicideboys

Outside in an all black ride
Tint rolled up when I'm high
Said they all wanna live but I just wanna die
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, aye
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 his
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