Gibberish

chicago rap, reggae, fast, fun, loud, beat, soulful, [chipmunk sample], roots reggae, punk

Lyrics written by M^SK
© 2025 M^SK. All rights reserved.

"Bluh, bluh, blah, blah!"

Back to front, upside down, inside out,
I don’t care, everything I want is way over there—so I shout.
They say, “Boy, talk proper!” but what does that mean?
Every word is just a symbol in a language machine.
I speak fluent gibberish, call it abstract,
Talk so backwards, my future in the past.
Up is down, left is right, day is night,
But if none of it makes sense, then I guess it’s all right.

[Verse 1]

I walk into the room with a left foot twice,
Trip over my thoughts, turn logic to ice.
Speak in riddles, metaphors, things you can’t follow,
Say I make no sense, but neither does tomorrow.
Why the sky blue? Who decided that’s a fact?
If I call it neon green, will the world collapse?
If a clock runs late, does it still tell time?
If I’m outta my mind, am I really outta line?

Look—
They say talk sense, but who wrote the rules?
I say my name backwards and I still sound cool.
Shirts on my legs, pants on my head,
Call it fashion, call it art, or just call it Fred.

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]

I laugh at my funeral, cry at my birth,
Spent my whole life tryna find out what I’m worth.
Turn water to fire, turn gold into rust,
You trust in the system, but I don’t trust trust.
The voices in my head got a guest list now,
Sent an invite to reality but it turned me down.
So I speak in riddles, talk in reverse,
If life is a blessing, then why’s it a curse?

Oh, you want logic? Alright, here’s a fact:
If time’s money, why I never get my minutes back?
If dreams ain’t real, why I live in mine?
If I lose my mind, do I get a new design?

[Bridge]

They say, “Make sense.” I say, “Why?”
They say, “Grow up.” I say, “Try.”
They say, “Be normal.” I laugh in their face.
If life’s just a race, I’ll run it in place.

[Chorus]

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Lyrics written by M^SK © 2025 M^SK. All rights reserved. "Bluh, bluh, blah, blah!" Back to front, upside down, inside out, I don’t care, everything I want is way over there—so I shout. They say, “Boy, talk proper!” but what does that mean? Every word is just a symbol in a language machine. I speak fluent gibberish, call it abstract, Talk so backwards, my future in the past. Up is down, left is right, day is night, But if none of it makes sense, then I guess it’s all right. [Verse 1] I walk into the room with a left foot twice, Trip over my thoughts, turn logic to ice. Speak in riddles, metaphors, things you can’t follow, Say I make no sense, but neither does tomorrow. Why the sky blue? Who decided that’s a fact? If I call it neon green, will the world collapse? If a clock runs late, does it still tell time? If I’m outta my mind, am I really outta line? Look— They say talk sense, but who wrote the rules? I say my name backwards and I still sound cool. Shirts on my legs, pants on my head, Call it fashion, call it art, or just call it Fred. [Chorus] Back to front, upside down, inside out, I don’t care, everything I want is way over there—so I shout. They say, “Boy, talk proper!” but what does that mean? Every word is just a symbol in a language machine. I speak fluent gibberish, call it abstract, Talk so backwards, my future in the past. Up is down, left is right, day is night, But if none of it makes sense, then I guess it’s all right. [Verse 2] I laugh at my funeral, cry at my birth, Spent my whole life tryna find out what I’m worth. Turn water to fire, turn gold into rust, You trust in the system, but I don’t trust trust. The voices in my head got a guest list now, Sent an invite to reality but it turned me down. So I speak in riddles, talk in reverse, If life is a blessing, then why’s it a curse? Oh, you want logic? Alright, here’s a fact: If time’s money, why I never get my minutes back? If dreams ain’t real, why I live in mine? If I lose my mind, do I get a new design? [Bridge] They say, “Make sense.” I say, “Why?” They say, “Grow up.” I say, “Try.” They say, “Be normal.” I laugh in their face. If life’s just a race, I’ll run it in place. [Chorus] Back to front, upside down, inside out, I don’t care, everything I want is way over there—so I shout. They say, “Boy, talk proper!” but what does that mean? Every word is just a symbol in a language machine. I speak fluent gibberish, call it abstract, Talk so backwards, my future in the past. Up is down, left is right, day is night, But if none of it makes sense, then I guess it’s all right.

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