Suicide King Blues

[Verse 1: Wildcard]
I’m sick of them talking
I’m sick of them walking
I’m sick of just giving a shit about any and all them
I’m sick of this pain, I’m sick of the anger
I’m sick of just giving them shit and not risking the danger
I''m sick of these pitiful bitches that listen to critical shit
And be twisted and vicious malicious and spitting it ridiculous Trick like magicians and wizards and wickens and whispering wishes and flipping through mystical missions and spitting meticulous ripping they asses riddle me Venomous rap shit
Keeping my pen and my pad shit packed like criminal stashes like when I’m thinking of passion then I be getting all drastic
All the adventures I’ve had that if any have ended in disaster
Crashing down
Fugitive music, I’m using it
It’s crucial, illusions that allude the movement
Move it or lose it to music's amusing
But what do you truly just do when you try to truly improve the youth and I’m taking my gun up out my holster
Squeezing the trigger, I’m gone

[Hook] (G.G. Scott & Wildcard):

Take no prisoners
Won’t put no chains on me
I walk out the front door
I’m the suicide king
And when the cops shoot me down, down, down, I just want you to know
I tried the best I could
(oh I tried, the best I could x3)

[Verse 2: Wildcard]

If I get lost, and took me a hostage
I’m stuck in a store with a gun and surrounded by cops
And I’m thinking no options, I’m thinking no profit
I’m thinking of the people I love and the people I’ve lost
I think about beauty
I think of my momma and all the times she called me through all the drama
I think of my friends, my grandpa, my father
I think of the women I left and the jams that I got in
Stand up and foster, be a good man to her daughter
Storm will come channel the waters, making the sand of a goddess
Now I’ve been handed narcotics, take em like antibiotics
Then I be rapping in my enemies face like the hands of a boxer
Venomous enemies giving me the remedies, swimming in venom
Diminish the vicinity
Sick to the center of vengeance
They limp and implicitly mention me then I’ll be pinning my venom and drivingly and living in infinity in my pain
And I’m gone

[Hook] (G.G. Scott & Wildcard):

Take no prisoners
Won’t put no chains on me
I walk out the front door
I’m the suicide king
And when the cops shoot me down, down, down, I just want you to know
I tried the best I could
(oh I tried, the best I could x3)