“Suicidal Thoughts”, produced by Lord Finesse, is the 17th and final track on the critically acclaimed Ready to Die album by The Notorious B.I.G.

photo: The Hiphographies

A thoroughly prophetic lyricist, The Notorious B.I.G. brings chills to my spine with “Suicidal Thoughts” on every listen.

The most troubling aspect of Biggie’s career is of course his death. The event is tragic, yet poetic, considering his two albums both refer to death in their title. In this regard, songs directly concerning his death are especially interesting to me and deserve a closer look.

A slick intro, a tight kick pattern, and that trademark Biggie confidence combine to form a frightening portrayal of a suicial Notorious B.I.G. I say “portrayal” because I’m not sure whether the character is satirical or more true to Biggie’s inner feelings.

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.

Biggie isn’t speaking through a metaphorical figure like Eminem did in “Stan” – he’s talking about his life and the pressures he faces. A poignant song for sure, Biggie puts it in such a way that I feel the weight of his pain on my own shoulders.

A favorite track of mine, “Suicidal Thoughts” is a prime example of Biggie throughout the pinnacle of his career. In addition to the music video, I’ve included the song from where the sampled kick pattern is from below. (Brethren- “Outside Love”) which is a jam in its own right.

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’.