| I’m gonna lie on my back and you put your fingers down my mouth right, no,
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| no do it right, like aaugh uuuugh!
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| I’m gonna do a jimi hendrix,
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| .eeuuughh…i'm gonna be sick in my sleep, euuugh… aaauugh ugh!
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| I tries to do it proper but kept comin’up a cropper
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| I needs some hype i think i’ll ram raid happy shopper
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| Haven’t got a car so i use a space hopper
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| Bouncing to the window, cut my head, show stopper
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| I want a hundred fans, 200 teeny boppers
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| I want police protection from 87 coppers
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| I wanna go gold even better platinum
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| If you wanna be a star you gotta kill yourself, man
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| It’s the truth step back, take a look around
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| Elvis is dead for being fat — 500 pound
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| Kurt cobain’s rich as fcuk he’s buried in the ground
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| Jimi hendrix and his amp still ain’t makin’no sound
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| Michael hutchence, he’s one of 'em too
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| Made a hundred million quid dying tossing on the loo
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| S U I C I D E… it might be messy but it’s money for free
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| Suicide is painless or so it has been said
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| I could’ve killed myself but i’d be better off dead
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| So i took a deep breath, put a gun against my head
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| Pulled the trigger, click, should’ve been eating lead
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| But i wasn’t, i was naked in john frost square
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| Mothers with pushchairs stopped and stared
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| For this situation i was quite unprepared
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| Tried suicide to be famous but nobody cared
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| Committing suicide to enhance my career
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| It worked for mickey and tupac shakir
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| Jesus was nailed up to some wood
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| 2000 years later and book sales are still good
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| I heard in a song suicide is painless
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| And it’s 80% sure to make you famous
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| W4nking with a bag on yer head tied to a door
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| That bloke from INXS he knew the score
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| S U I C I D E… it might be messy but it’s money for free
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| S U I C I D E… it might be messy but it’s money for free
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| I gotta kill myself, i gotta do’s it quick
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| John entwistle sly, he was snorting arsenic
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| I keep taking all this coke to make me die
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| Doin’more drugs than they make in fcukin’ICI
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| It’s the best way to go, don’t think me dull
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| I’m not gonna fall off the roof like the flid rod hull
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| We want people to sing all our songs
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| And the nuns at saint joseph’s rappin’on smokin’bongs
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| We wanna be remembered when we’re six feet under
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| For hip-hoppin'not robins fukin’beatings or plunder
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| At the moment i’m not dead like david kampasey
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| Double platinum means you gotta be pushin’up daisies
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| Dad’s army’s all dead, every last one
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| But the c*nts are still going on BBC1
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| Yeah that’s right i smoke draw from wales
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| Suicide’s a good idea to improve vinyl sales
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| It’s useless, it’s crap, i’ll never be in the sun
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| How can i be a pop star when i can’t buy a gun?
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| Jimmy morrison overdosed in the bath
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| I know, i’ll hang myself with my scarf
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| Tied to the stairs, dangling by my neck
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| The cord length i forgot to check
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| Stuck it for a week, unable to shriek
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| The landlord found me and he called me a freak
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| He cut me down and started to laugh
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| 'if you’re dead next week gimme your autograph'
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| You know i thanked him, returned to my room
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| The new plan is to go out with a boom
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| To the station, with a petrol can
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| Five pound please, i say to the man
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| All set up and ready to burn
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| The wheel on my lighter just won’t turn
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| Suicide is a suicyclebbbl
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| Suicide is a suicyclebbbl
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| Suicide is a suicyclebbbl… i wanna be famous after i die
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| Proven fact, man, if you’re dead you sell more
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| That drummer from def leppard, his arm has made 30 times more than he has
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| You know our elvis? |
| well, he’s dead famous now and he’s dead and he’s fa.
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| he’s more famous now like
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| He’s dead like you know, that’s what it’s all about like
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| It’s fcukin’simple economics
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| They reckon bob marley’s dead but he’s not, man, coz he was on the TV last
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| night, man
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| Just don’t lie to me, man
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| I thought i was havin’a go at an overdose, but i i i don’t think you can
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| overdose on beechams flu plus
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| I think one of the blokes off of dads army is still alive, i think he’s bumming
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| martin in eastenders innit?
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| I’ll get the ropes, and we’ll tie them to the walls, and we all jump off at the
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| same time and break our necks and we’ll make at least 13 quid and you
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| Knows we’ll be famous like fcukin’ghandi or like the bloke off that sex film we seen |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Self Suicide , by - Goldie Lookin Chain. Song from the album Greatest Hits (DMD), in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп