_i/m kind of a big deal_
sad
pretty
angry
knowledgable
promiscous
intelligent
lost
used
lied
upset
hated
hurt
abused
amused
confused
bored
boring
pissed
falling off a 4-wheeler sux, and i wouldn/t suggest it to anyone unless want a broken ass. ow. ouch. ow. ouch. ow.
There I go--thinking of you again
You don't know how sick you make me
You make me fuckin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you, I puke
You must just not know
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you
I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little poem But this of the dome would probably be a little more, more suitable for this type of song
I got a million reasons off the top of my head that I could think of
Sixteen bars, this ain/t enough to put some ink at
So fuck it, I'ma start right here by just be brief-a
Bout to rattle off some other reasons
I knew I shouldn/t go and get another tattoo of you
On my arm, but what do I go and do
I go and get another one, now I got two
I/m sittin' here with your name on my skin
I can/t believe I went and did this stupid shit again
If you only knew how much I hated you
For every motherfuckin' thing you ever put us through
Then I wouldn/t be standing here crying over you
You don/t know how sick you make me
You make me fuckin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you, I puke
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you
I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little letter
But I thought a song would probably be a little better
Instead of a letter
That you/d probably just shred up--yeah
I stumbled on your picture yesterday and it made me stop and think of
How much of a waste it/d be for me to put some ink to, a stupid piece a Paper, I/d rather let you see how
Much I fuckin' hate you in a freestyle
You/re a fuckin' coke-head, I hope you fuckin' die
I hope you get to hell and Satan sticks a needle in your eye
I hate your fuckin' guts, you fuckin' slut, I hope you die
But please don/t get me wrong, I/m not bitter or mad
It/s not that I still love you, it/s not 'cause I want you back
It/s just that when I think of you, it makes me wanna gag
What else can I do, I haven/t got a clue
Now I guess I/ll just move on, I have no choice but to
But every time I think of you now, I/ll I wanna do
Is puke
You don't know how sick you make me
You make me fuckin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you, I puke
You must just not know
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you, I puke
Fuckin' bitch
pretty
angry
knowledgable
promiscous
intelligent
lost
used
lied
upset
hated
hurt
abused
amused
confused
bored
boring
pissed
falling off a 4-wheeler sux, and i wouldn/t suggest it to anyone unless want a broken ass. ow. ouch. ow. ouch. ow.
There I go--thinking of you again
You don't know how sick you make me
You make me fuckin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you, I puke
You must just not know
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you
I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little poem But this of the dome would probably be a little more, more suitable for this type of song
I got a million reasons off the top of my head that I could think of
Sixteen bars, this ain/t enough to put some ink at
So fuck it, I'ma start right here by just be brief-a
Bout to rattle off some other reasons
I knew I shouldn/t go and get another tattoo of you
On my arm, but what do I go and do
I go and get another one, now I got two
I/m sittin' here with your name on my skin
I can/t believe I went and did this stupid shit again
If you only knew how much I hated you
For every motherfuckin' thing you ever put us through
Then I wouldn/t be standing here crying over you
You don/t know how sick you make me
You make me fuckin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you, I puke
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you
I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little letter
But I thought a song would probably be a little better
Instead of a letter
That you/d probably just shred up--yeah
I stumbled on your picture yesterday and it made me stop and think of
How much of a waste it/d be for me to put some ink to, a stupid piece a Paper, I/d rather let you see how
Much I fuckin' hate you in a freestyle
You/re a fuckin' coke-head, I hope you fuckin' die
I hope you get to hell and Satan sticks a needle in your eye
I hate your fuckin' guts, you fuckin' slut, I hope you die
But please don/t get me wrong, I/m not bitter or mad
It/s not that I still love you, it/s not 'cause I want you back
It/s just that when I think of you, it makes me wanna gag
What else can I do, I haven/t got a clue
Now I guess I/ll just move on, I have no choice but to
But every time I think of you now, I/ll I wanna do
Is puke
You don't know how sick you make me
You make me fuckin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you, I puke
You must just not know
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you, I puke
Fuckin' bitch