Waka Flocka Flame - Suicide Homicide lyrics

[Intro] Southside [Waka Flocka Flame] 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, f** a vacation Wak's a real n***a, why you goin to the station? Damn D-Mars why these f** n***az hatin? Can't replace, why God had to fake 'em? Free my n***a Moe, 25 he facin Lafayette, Grove Street, that's my nation Hoes on point, never losin concentration New black 'rarri got a n***a tryin race it Fresh 'fro, gives a simple wave to the Haitians Silver rotation got a n***a on point Haste with the case, when the sh** 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 [Chorus] S-suicide paint (den) suicide rims (k** 'em) Suicide loud, I got them suicide friends (stankin) Suicide b**hes they'll k** for a n***a (ugh) Call it suicide, run up on me f** n***a (p**y) Homicide purp (den) homicide vert' (k** 'em) Homicide yo' a** and put yo' a** on a shirt (stankin) Homicide ice, homicide life (ugh) Homicide yo' kids and yo' motherf**in wife (GUCCI!) [Gucci Mane] 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 sh** abortions Roamin through the 6 like a motherfukin orphan Like Vick I k**ed 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 [Chorus] [Wooh Da Kid] 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, n***a, murder, n***a Real short fuse, I hurt a, n***a Wood Da Kid, Wooh Da, King I'm married to my strap and I don't need a ring [Chorus]