They say my writing anit shit, Till it gives you what you want. Say my music anit hits, Till my music puts you on. They say my music anit shit, But take charge, On up, on one. And one. Then sum. Rap so crazy, Till I’m shaking and off one. I anit hiding nothing from the rhythm, I anit lying denying claims im not on some. But I’m the type of truth most people run from. My words brings out the hype that most people want to possess, But never be the honest ones. This that force of passion built from tragedy, That they run from- That’s projected by your majesty. They say I sound like marshal, But baby don’t get mad at me. Studying my anatomy, Especially because I need to master me. You flatter me baby, But really I’m just digging deep pulling strings, I fucking hate, just to show the world. Regrettably, steadily, heavily deadly, The worst rather than the best of me. Call it beating destiny. My place, inside my skull My words of pain, and the raggedy brain that I call home. Show it off build it up break it down, Pressures getting to me. Maybe time I change or pour more into the page. I agree with you baby. I don’t like what I say. But I’d go insane, If they stay in place. This is my way to break, To grow back maybe be great. Or just dead inside of a crate. Beautiful baby, I control the pace, Finding rhythm in the rage. Rippin through the page. Now look, I got a lot to say, But every time I speak, It feels like something gets away. I put my thoughts on paper, Then I hate what I create. Read it back a couple times, Like, is this shit really me on the page? Maybe I’m just pissed, Mad at the outcome. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe all this shit I’m writing Is the thing I wasn’t meant to outrun. Its the shit that keeps me wired, then fired up heavily inspired. chasing something bigger, With a head full of doubt. Got a mouth full of truth, An know how it comes out. Everybody got advice, Everybody knows the route. Funny how they talk about the climb, But never help you dig up the roots. I ain’t asking for a crowd, ain’t begging for respect. I’m just trying to help the voice before it drowns in my head. Shooting rounds to my head. (Gun shots) I know I got some flaws, I ain’t blind to my reflection. Every line’s another argument, Every rhyme’s another weapon. Am I building something real, Or just feeding my obsession? Am I learning from the pain, Or just giving it lessons? Shit, I don’t know. That’s the part that makes it honest. Got a thousand different thoughts, And a thousand ways to process it Got a dream I can’t explain, Got a past I acknowledge Without digging through my veins. And bringing shit up from the bottom. That I never woulda solved it. Id never find the root of my problems. They say it ain’t shit, Till it gives you what you need. They say you ain’t shit, Till you’re somebody they believe. I got pressure on my chest, Got these thoughts I gotta bleed. If I don’t put it in the music, Then it’s coming back to me. They say it ain’t shit, Let ‘em say it how they please. I’m still writing through the madness, Still just trying to find the key. And maybe I’m the problem, Maybe that’s the fucking truth. Maybe I expect too much From a world that don’t approve. Maybe I keep burning bridges Just to prove I’ll do it alone, Bad moves help me find my way back to you. Respectfully . Even if it’s not what you’re used to Then complain about the distance When there’s something left to lose. Like shit what’d I do I got habits I don’t like, Got a temper I defend. Got a way of pushing people that I neglect to process, Put em through hell Just to see who stays till the end. Then I sit there asking why I don’t trust the ones who care. Like I built myself a prison Then got pissed that no one’s there. That’s some shit I gotta face. Can’t blame it on the game. Can’t keep pointing at the world Every time I feel ashamed. But I’m learning as I go, Even if I hate the pace. Every failure leaves a mark, Every scar remembers names. I ain’t saying I’m a saint, I ain’t claiming I’m the best. I’m a person with a pen And a head that never rests.
