Prince Paul - 1-800 Suicide (New Vocal Version) lyrics

[Verse One] Back in the ghetto it rained for forty days A-alike slain but I can't show no pain My headache, enormous proportions is the size of a bucket Paink**ers can't touch it Yo, what my little brothers gone Now I'm torn apart as I stand with the knife at my heart We shared the good and the bad times When Moms broke out to the store, it was half time Remember she came back yo and we got beatings with the Hot Wheels track I felt the hurt from your own predicament Lost your scholarship, can't play pro ball with torn ligaments Career suddenly ended, your goal is offended Suicide d**h tips recomended to try, black But you and I verse, as we bless the earth So let us pour the wine preventing suicide [Verse Two] Nicole's torn away from home at age 12 In search of herself she found an angel of hell Who deceived her like Eve And convinced her to leave Her family You can see she was very naive The fallacy she was taught was brain washed thoughts In a cult with no culture Soon she was forced Into showing her skin tones for thin, grins and moans To please her saviour Jim Jones Her pop's was an ex-marine Him and his team Got M-16's so they could blow up the scene "No tambourine-beating Deacon, is freaking my seed, every weekend, as long As I'm breathing" They parachuted in, Started shooting men, Recruited by Jim Grabbed Nicole and threw her in To the trunk, She was that close to drinking the punch And realized, False prophets lead to suicide [Verse Three] I was born in a bed of thorns, surrounded by men with horns Wicked forms, but still I was happy to be born I grew up in a house of ten, of mouse of men, rats and roaches lacking oxygen Every night I dreamed I saw ghosts Babies crying, favourite uncles dying, Mom's crying, Pops lying Mom's going across his head with a frying pan Me and my man made plans to rule the land and raise a fam Now my man stands six feet deep in a box, covered with sand Tears are dropping, (n***as) droppin or Coppin out the 2-to-5s, smoking dust, do or die, suicide About to face a bid, cos I tried to waste this kid Ready to embrace the biscuit to my face, pull it back Erase it kid, pull the trigger But I figure, that I got a little RZA Can't let him get trapped by the evil wizards Wicked men apply genocide, homicide, for you and I to try (you) won't figure this out till you die It's a suicide