There I go, thinking of you again

You don’t know how sick you make me
You make me fucking 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

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 to
So fuck it, I’ma start right here, I’ll just be brief, I’m
‘Bout to rattle off some of the 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)
Now I’m sitting 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 (Shit)
If you only knew how much I hated you
For every motherfucking thing you’ve ever put us through
Then I wouldn’t be standing here crying over you (Boo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-hoo)

You don’t know how sick you make me
You make me fucking 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

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 of
Paper, I’d rather let you see how
Much I fucking hate you in a freestyle
You’re a fucking cokehead slut, I hope you fucking die, ho
I hope you get to hell and Satan sticks a needle in your eye
I hate your fucking guts, you fucking slut, I hope you die (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 yack (Ack)
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 all I wanna do is puke

You don’t know how sick you make me
You make me fucking 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

Ah, damn!
Fucking bitch