Suicidal Thoughts – Notorious B.I.G.

The last track on Biggie’s 1994 debut album ‘Ready to Die’ is a terrifyingly introverted admission of guilt from Notorious B.I.G. The lyrical theme of Suicidal Thoughts was ahead of its time for 1994, this track haunts the listener as Biggie calls Diddy late one night expressing his feelings of suicidal thoughts and the hate Biggie has for himself. He laments his behaviour and the guilt he feels for how he has hurt those closest to him.

Hello, aw, shit nigga
What the fuck time is it?
Oh, goddamn, nigga do you know what time it is?
Aw, shit, what the fuck is going on?
You alright? Nigga what the fuck is wrong with you?

When I die, fuck it I wanna go to hell
Cause I’m a piece of shit, it ain’t hard to fuckin’ tell
It don’t make sense, goin’ to heaven with the goodie-goodies
Dressed in white, I like black Tims and black hoodies

God’ll prolly have me on some real strict shit
No sleepin’ all day, no gettin’ my dick licked
Hangin’ with the goodie-goodies loungin’ in paradise
Fuck that shit, I wanna tote guns and shoot dice

All my life I been considered as the worst
Lyin’ to my mother, even stealin’ out her purse
Crime after crime, from drugs to extortion
I know my mother wished she got a fucking abortion

She don’t even love me like she did when I was younger
Suckin’ on her chest just to stop my fuckin’ hunger
I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes
Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies

My baby mother’s eight months, her little sister’s two
Who’s to blame for both of them,
(naw nigga, not you)
I swear to God I want to just slit my wrists and end this bullshit
Throw the Magnum to my head, threaten to pull shit

And squeeze, until the bed’s completely red
I’m glad I’m dead, a worthless fuckin’ buddah head
The stress is building up, I can’t
I can’t believe suicide’s on my fucking mind, I wanna leave
I swear to God I feel like death is fucking calling me

Naw you wouldn’t understand
(Nigga, talk to me please)

You see it’s kinda like the crack did to Pookie, in New Jack
Except when I cross over, there ain’t no comin’ back
Should I die on the train track, like Ramo in Beatstreet
People at the funeral fronting like they miss me
My baby momma kissed me but she glad I’m gone
She knew me and her sister had somethin’ goin’ on

I reach my peak, I can’t speak
Call my nigga Chic, tell him that my will is weak
I’m sick of niggas lying, I’m sick of bitches hawkin’
Matter of fact, I’m sick of talkin’

Ayo Big, ayo Big

*gunshot is heard followed by the sound of Biggie’s body falling to the ground. a slow heart beat is heard, beating slowly with each pump till his heart stops*


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