Yeah I’m addicted to stress, Like it’s stitched in my chest Got a brain full of “maybe later” and a house full of mess. I keep trippin’ on regrets while I sprint in place, Guess chaos is the only motherfockin’ friend I impress. --- I wake up doom-scrollin’, soul swollen, goals stolen, Whole emotion-hotel with the doors open Front desk’s closed though, “come back when you’re grown, bruh,” But I’m stuck runnin’ laps in my skull like a broke Roomba. Addicted to stress? Nah, bish, I mainline the pressure, Stack panic like Tetris while I measure my failures for leisure. Yeah, I’m a treasure buried under overdue letters, Bills hittin’ harder than life lessons dressed in debt-collectors. I keep promising change like a glitchy politician, But my ambition’s on intermission, twitching in repetition. I be ditchin’ decisions like “sorry bro, bufferin’… again,” Guess my intuition’s missin’ went fishin’ with discipline. --- Every day I swear I’ll fix sheet But I keep switchin’ dreams like Netflix picks And none of ‘em stick. Maybe the problem is me… fock it, back to the schtick. Yeah I’m addicted to stress, Like it’s stitched in my chest Got a brain full of “maybe later” and a house full of mess. I keep trippin’ on regrets while I sprint in place, Guess chaos is the only motherfockin’ friend I impress. --- Look I chase peace like it owes me rent, But every time it says “yo, chill,” I reply “nope, can’t I got trauma to juggle, drama to double, problems to cuddle, Self-sabotage on speed-dial, bish, we go back subtle.” My heartbeat sound like a trapped woodpecker, Tappin’ “failure” in Morse code I decode it better. I’m a stress-addict Jedi with anxiety’s saber, Slicing minutes into milligrams of fock-my-life vapors. I treat calm like it’s boring, joy like it’s foreign, Sleep like a myth, bish, my brain’s always stormin’. Sarcasm’s my organ, cynicism my mortgage, And I pay it with emotional storage wars Yeah, I hoard it. Autopilot always steerin’ me wrong, I got beef with my reflection we ain’t spoken since dawn. If life’s a marathon I’m runnin’ it wrong, Trip over sheet I invented just to prove I belong. --- I don’t need coffee My anxiety preheated the pot. I don’t need therapy I already argue with thoughts. Why fix my habits When self-wreckin’ is cheaper? I’m the stress grim-reaper And bish business is deeper. --- Yeah I’m addicted to stress, Carved it into my flesh I romanticize the chaos like it’s all that I have left. If peace knocks, I’m like “who dat?” I ghost it like an ex, Guess comfort makes me nervous… But pressure? That sheet feels blessed.
