Translation of Suicidal thoughts by Notorious B I G

From:

[RING, RING]

(Hello? Aw shit, nigga. What the fuck time is it, man?
Oh god damn. Nigga do you know what time it is?
Aw shit, what the fuck´s goin´ on? You alright?
Aw, nigga what the fuck is wrong wit you?)

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´.
[BANG]
(hey yo big...hey yo big)
Translate to:

[RING, RING]

(Hello? Aw shit, nigga. What the fuck time is it, man?
Oh god damn. Nigga do you know what time it is?
Aw shit, what the fuck´s goin´ on? You alright?
Aw, nigga what the fuck is wrong wit you?)

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´.
[BANG]
(hey yo big...hey yo big)