hahaha

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You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: yo
Stranger: yo
You: yo
Stranger: wats goin down
You: wtf
Stranger: check dis out aite
Stranger: im gonna be famous one day
You: ok
Stranger: but another legend
Stranger: just like biggie and tupac
You: cool
Stranger: but fk biggie im west coast haha
Stranger: so hear me out
You: ok
Stranger: imma lay down some rhymes for u k?
You: ok
Stranger: it goes sumtin like diss...
Stranger: 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 wit the goodie goodies
Dressed in white I like black Tims and black hoodies
God will probably 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 fuckin' 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 babies' mothers 8 months, her little sister's 2
Who's to blame for both of them (naw nigga, not you)
I swear to God I just want to 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 buildin' up, I can't,
I can't believe suicide's on my fuckin' mind
I want to leave, I swear to God I feel like death is fuckin' callin' me
Naw you wouldn't understand (nigga, talk to me please)
You see its 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 Remo in Beatstreet
People at the funeral frontin' like they miss me
My baby momma kissed me but she glad I'm gone
She knew me and her sista 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 lyin', I'm sick of bitches hawkin',
matter of fact, I'm sick of talkin'.
You: tip
Stranger: u like dawg?
Stranger: its da shit I KNOW
You: nope
Stranger: FK U DAWG
Stranger: HATER
Stranger: ANOTHER FAGGOT HATER I SEE
Stranger: imma be famous one day dawg
Stranger: i wrote down ur ip
You: Nah
Stranger: when i get the money
You: But u hv no money
Stranger: imma come to ur fkin door and cut up ur fkin throat aite?
Stranger: i gotta record ok muthafuka?
You: Ima come to ur fkin door n cut ur moms tits
You have disconnected.