Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Suicide Homicide , by - Gucci Mane. Release date: 04.08.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Suicide Homicide |
| You decide, tuck in yo' pride |
| I ain’t waitin, I ain’t got no patience |
| Raised by the Grove, I ain’t got an education |
| 24/7 shorty, fuck a vacation |
| Wak’s a real nigga, why you goin to the station? |
| Damn D-Mars why these fuck niggaz hatin? |
| Can’t replace, why God had to fake 'em? |
| Free my nigga Moe, 25 he facin |
| Lafayette, Grove Street, that’s my nation |
| Hoes on point, never losin concentration |
| New black 'rarri got a nigga tryin race it |
| Fresh 'fro, gives a simple wave to the Haitians |
| Silver rotation got a nigga on point |
| Haste with the case, when the shit gon' stop? |
| Run up on me click click click pop |
| (Pop pop pop pop) Pop, many body drop |
| I’m the Brick Squad crop, the crowd real Waka Flock' |
| Man you rag, dude you go hard (what else?) |
| I am Brick Squad, crowd yell out SQUAD (and) |
| I’m livin it, hell I’m only scared of God |
| S-suicide paint (den) suicide rims (kill 'em) |
| Suicide loud, I got them suicide friends (stankin) |
| Suicide bitches they’ll kill for a nigga (ugh) |
| Call it suicide, run up on me fuck nigga (pussy) |
| Homicide purp (den) homicide vert' (kill 'em) |
| Homicide yo' ass and put yo' ass on a shirt (stankin) |
| Homicide ice, homicide life (ugh) |
| Homicide yo' kids and yo' motherfuckin wife (GUCCI!) |
| I’ma rich man sparkin, a rich man coughin |
| Dead man walkin, dead man talkin |
| I’m the man with the grams, get your bags, get your weight |
| Call me baker man, cuse I can bake a cake (it's Gucci) |
| Drop top 'rarri, called the headless horseman |
| Cooking up babies, call the shit abortions |
| Roamin through the 6 like a motherfukin orphan |
| Like Vick I killed your road dawg and put him in a coffin |
| When it’s on again, grab a tote again, no pad or pen, I gotta win |
| BSM and 1017, my whole Squad be goin in |
| Suicide is a homicide, I smoke so much my brain is fried |
| (Ferrari Boyz) and Ferrari toys, pullin up lookin like the Gotti boys |
| Doors go up, we just call it suicide |
| I ain’t playin, I’m just prayin it’s a homicide |
| It’s 1017 that means it’s time for BSM |
| Bread to win, that’s on Pop, Joe the Boss, and Bim |
| Test what? |
| Test that, test this |
| Your bet your real lab rat I’ll let her test dick |
| Running with the (Cannon), I ain’t talkin (Nick) |
| I put 7 on your chest like M dot Vick |
| Murder, nigga, murder, nigga |
| Real short fuse, I hurt a, nigga |
| Wood Da Kid, Wooh Da, King |
| I’m married to my strap and I don’t need a ring |