Suicide Lyrics

Brooklyn! See don′t consider these niggas your friends
I mean you might not even wanna call 'em associates
I heard y′all after I went down, like drums done
You supposed to do it the right way
What is the right way, nigga?
Oh I didn't help the game out? OK
Kill yourself

How you want it in the abdomen or back?
Cause enemies poke you from the front, friends stab you in the back
Same niggas who try to collab you on the track
Turn right around and try to crab you on the smack
But through the ups and downs I just try to stay level-headed
I hear a lot of bullshit, but I never sweat it
Cause when you ask 'em ′bout it they gon′ say they never said it
They know if it's beef I let the MAC-11 dead it
And when I spit it you can dig it like a shovel said it
You couldn′t hear a hotter flow if the devil said it
I walk by 'em and wink
I don′t feel T's pain cause I never had to buy him a drink
Double shot of Loso, baby I am the drink
Tell ′em lay down on the couch, baby I am the shrink
Oh yeah, I bring your lady home, but I got the eighty chrome
Niggas go Tom Cruise crazy for the Katie Holmes
I know niggas livin' in the Feds
Who say don't look down unless she′s givin′ you some head
I'm driven by the bread, my push is the paper
I roll up like kush in the paper
I gotta be Kobe, you never see niggas like Smush in the paper
Unless he got pushed in the paper
Some of my niggas be on some bullshit, I call ′em the heat sweepers
They ride around with the street sweepers
Will murk you at the Grammy's, but to kill you in the street′s cheaper
Either way you're six feet deeper
It′s Loso, AKA the one Trump Plaza suite creeper
King-size double-G Gucci sheet sleeper
The kid blow shots, catch me in the Kid Robot
Five in the jersey cause the kid's so hot
Yeah, similar to Jason, you point at the God?
You must got an appointment with God
A meeting with Allah, or maybe a hot date with Satan
Niggas is food, I got hot plates for hatin'
So when they bring the name up they gon′ say I came up
That shit alone be burnin′ these fuckin' lames up
Come through in the Bentley, just to turn the flames up
So you wanna take a shot, nigga? Bet the aim up
Los is top shelf, nigga I′m the better liquor
Ain't goin′ nowhere for a while, you can get a Snicker
I fuck her quick, dead her quicker
And momma said keep your tongue in
Your mouth unless you a letter licker
I'm gettin′ money, bitch, but I ain't a cheddar tricka
Got the Texas toast, meanin' that my bread is thicker
As a youngin I was too cool to sweat a whore
Now I′m fuckin′ pretty bitches with them good credit scores
Nigga with mental loss, can't forget I been a boss
Tryin′ me is like bungeeing with dental floss
Fuck 'em

I mean this is what we do
This is what we do over here, you know?
You know what I mean?
Street Fam, Fitty Lit up boys, Stutter Gang
Whatever you wanna call us niggas
Just don′t call us broke, nah don't do that
That would be inappropriate, you know what I mean?
Anything else would be uncivilized
Brooklyn what it look like?
You see I′m back, look at how good I'm lookin'
Listen man I told y′all we was comin′ this year man
I gave y'all the forecast, you know what I mean?
I like predicted the tsunami was comin′, before the water hit
Look on your Chinese calendar, it's the year of the Loso
Let′s get outta here Los