Bayou Bitch Witch (BBW) - PoTTziLLaMusic

Psychological Horrorcore, Dark Swamp Rap

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[Intro]
(The sound of wading through thick water, rusted chains rattle softly. A deep, distorted choir hums a monotonous melody. Her breath is heavy but calm.)

(Spoken, deep voice)

Sit down, child.

The mud is rising... and I finally have the time.

You thought you could leave the rot behind?

I am the rot. And I am your mother now.

[Verse 1]
(Slow flow, heavy emphasis on every word)

I don't need to scream to make you pray.

I watched you grow in the filth, day by day.

I saw the things you buried under the cypress tree,

But the swamp has eyes... and it belongs to me.

(Coughing sound, metallic) You call it "trauma," I call it the price.

I am the cold hand, I am the vice.

White paint cracked on a tired face,

I’m the judge of this hollow, godless place.

You’re not a man here, you’re just a debt.

And I’m the only one you haven’t paid yet.

[Chorus]
(Flow becomes even slower, almost spoken, rhythmic breathing)

I’m the water in your lungs.

I’m the truth on your tongues.

Not a monster, not a ghost.

Just the one who loves you most.

(Pause) I raised you from the dirt.

Now I’ll put you back in the earth.

[Verse 2]
(Sound of flies buzzing, industrial clanging in the background)

Look at my hands, stained with factory grease.

I offered you mercy, I offered you peace.

But you traded your soul for a loud, cheap lie,

Now you’re trembling here, asking me "why?"

(Low chuckle) Because a mother knows when the fruit is spoiled.

Because the soil remembers every drop that was spilled.

You’re not "crazy," you’re just finally seen.

The space in between what you were and have been.

I’m not the circus. I’m the end of the line.

Your time was yours... but the rest is mine.

[Bridge]
(Music cuts out. Only the sound of bubbling mud and a distant, distorted bell)

(Whispered)

Don’t struggle.

The mud is warm.

It’s just like the womb...

Only tighter.

[Verse 3]
(Voice gets deeper, more distorted)

I see the men who thought they were kings.

Broken puppets on rusted strings.

I don’t want your money. I don’t want your fear.

I want the silence you’ve avoided for years.

The Bayou is heavy, the Bayou is deep.

I have so many promises left to keep.

Go to sleep, little one.

Your judgment is done.

[Outro]
(The sound of a heavy body being dragged through mud. The distorted choir returns) I’m not mad.

I’m just... finished with you.

(The sound of water closing over someone's head) (Fades to black with the sound of crickets)

2463/7500

[Intro] (The sound of wading through thick water, rusted chains rattle softly. A deep, distorted choir hums a monotonous melody. Her breath is heavy but calm.) (Spoken, deep voice) Sit down, child. The mud is rising... and I finally have the time. You thought you could leave the rot behind? I am the rot. And I am your mother now. [Verse 1] (Slow flow, heavy emphasis on every word) I don't need to scream to make you pray. I watched you grow in the filth, day by day. I saw the things you buried under the cypress tree, But the swamp has eyes... and it belongs to me. (Coughing sound, metallic) You call it "trauma," I call it the price. I am the cold hand, I am the vice. White paint cracked on a tired face, I’m the judge of this hollow, godless place. You’re not a man here, you’re just a debt. And I’m the only one you haven’t paid yet. [Chorus] (Flow becomes even slower, almost spoken, rhythmic breathing) I’m the water in your lungs. I’m the truth on your tongues. Not a monster, not a ghost. Just the one who loves you most. (Pause) I raised you from the dirt. Now I’ll put you back in the earth. [Verse 2] (Sound of flies buzzing, industrial clanging in the background) Look at my hands, stained with factory grease. I offered you mercy, I offered you peace. But you traded your soul for a loud, cheap lie, Now you’re trembling here, asking me "why?" (Low chuckle) Because a mother knows when the fruit is spoiled. Because the soil remembers every drop that was spilled. You’re not "crazy," you’re just finally seen. The space in between what you were and have been. I’m not the circus. I’m the end of the line. Your time was yours... but the rest is mine. [Bridge] (Music cuts out. Only the sound of bubbling mud and a distant, distorted bell) (Whispered) Don’t struggle. The mud is warm. It’s just like the womb... Only tighter. [Verse 3] (Voice gets deeper, more distorted) I see the men who thought they were kings. Broken puppets on rusted strings. I don’t want your money. I don’t want your fear. I want the silence you’ve avoided for years. The Bayou is heavy, the Bayou is deep. I have so many promises left to keep. Go to sleep, little one. Your judgment is done. [Outro] (The sound of a heavy body being dragged through mud. The distorted choir returns) I’m not mad. I’m just... finished with you. (The sound of water closing over someone's head) (Fades to black with the sound of crickets)

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