There I go
thinking of you again
[Chorus]
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-oh-oh-oh-ho
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 off 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
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
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh
I'm sittin' here with your name on my skin
I can't believe I went and did this stupid shit again
My next girlfriend, now her name's gotta be Kim
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
[Chorus]
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' cokein' slut, 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 yak
-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
[Chorus]
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
compositores: BRIAN HAROLD MAY, LUIS RESTO, STEVEN KING, MARSHALL MATHERS
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