“We call it Thoughtaholic” Thoughtaholic That’s what I call it Thoughtaholic That’s what I call it Think a thought I think about it Think a thought just to get lost Found, I promise we from the projects Courtyard benches Brown bags and snitches Electric taped butt handles on a snub nose that drenches Six shots like a sinful slut that licks in the trenches Too many bitches and no bitches No bitch with in me come get me Get your name Call upon the door No knock But I hear four Separate the world from a front I’m a fake As they come “We call it Thoughtaholic” I don’t give a Fuck about nothing Fuck gave don’t nothing I care about, Something I hear about Simple sampling of words that don’t mean a thing. Predisposed positions that flaunt Make a statement a presence I don’t want, Air it out Blue printed Renegade Redefined and remembered black framed Picture depicted Wall hanged And imprinted Trap house back rooms Revealing what’s discovered and missing Murdered sixth sense Tip toes around listening Anxiety felt Breathing losing breath Really not real Everything’s nothings feel “We call it Thoughtaholic” “Where You From?” Original lyrics by THOUGHTAHOLIC (@d13ov04). Sound and production by THOUGHTAHOLIC & TENGÜRA. © 2026 THOUGHTAHOLIC & TENGÜRA | An Indiana-Istanbul collaboration.
