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Absolutly Correct (Only notes will be sent) Mostly Correct, yet... The lyrics are wrong Very Wrong Not the lyrics to HOLD YA HEAD
Severity is 3
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Lyric Body	feat. Bob Marley [Chrous: Bob Marley ] Woman hold her head and cry Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died Woman hold her head and cry Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died [Verse 1: Notorious B.I.G.] 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 [Chrous: Bob Marley] Woman hold her head and cry Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died [Verse 2: Notorious B.I.G.] 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 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 sister had somethin' goin' on I wonder if I died, would tears come to her eyes? Forgive me for my disrespect, forgive me for my lies [Chorus: Bob Marley] Woman hold her head and cry Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died [Verse 3: Notorious B.I.G.] I reach my peak, I can't speak, call my nigga Chic, tell him that my will is weak I'm sick of niggaz lyin', I'm sick of bitches hawkin' Matter of fact, I'm sick of talkin' (echoes)
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