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Punching Bag Bitch, cry and whine your way into oblivion. |
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heard this song,thought of you.
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--whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa 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 from of the dome would probably be a little more, more suitable for this type of song--whoa 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 ta So fuck it, I'ma start right here by just be brief-a Bout to rattle off some other reasons Shi-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-it 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 Boo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-who 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--whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa 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 ta, 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 Di-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ie 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-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-ag 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 pu-uu-uu-uu-uu-uu-uke 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--whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa You may not think you do, but you do Every time I think of you, I puke Fuckin' bitch (cant help that this song reminds me of you.) |