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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 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 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 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 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 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 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 Yack-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-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, 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 Layout made by BERV