🧨 Page 1 — "The World is a Stage"

[Verse 1] Yo, I ain't here for your soft-ass dreams, I wrote this shit for the ones who fiend For truth raw, for the ones that bleed, Not for clowns stuck in fantasy feeds. Fuck your theories, I seen their hands, Met the demons dressed up as man. Facts, motherfucker — not bedtime tales, Real names, real snakes, real blood trails. The world’s a fuckin' stage, and we the marks, They hit us with lights while they move in the dark. Clinton? That bitch was just sellin' you dreams, Talkin' sweet shit while he rigged the machine. They press your buttons, pull your strings, Smile and wave while they gut your kings. You clap like seals while they steal your crown, They torch your flag while you bow down. [Hook – Chanting, raw voice] Fuck your comfort, fuck your lies, We here to torch the alibis. Light too bright? Then close your eyes. The stage is set — the curtain’s fried. [Verse 2] I don’t do fairy tales, I break the locks, Expose the games, throw hands with gods. Since WWII, you been ghosted, kid, Emergency acts done sealed your bid. You think a motherfuckin' vote gon' flip it? You think a broken system lets you fix it? Left, right — all them bitches bought, Every stage, every law, every fuckin' thought. They print your money, they edit your prayers, Bitch-made pastors get bought in chairs. Even Christendom’s got dirty hands, Pimpin' out pulpits for program scans. This ain’t no fear book, this ain’t no scheme, I ain’t sellin' no pipe dream team. This is the motherfuckin' blueprint black, Showin' where the devil plants his trap. Satan’s elite — you heard that right, Generations deep in bloodline rites. Puppeteers in Gucci suits, Holdin' your leash while you salute. [Bridge – Warped and glitched vocal] The whole world lies in a bitch-made spell. Open your eyes. Sniff the smell. Investigate or kiss the cell. Their throne ain't built to let you rebel. [Verse 3 – Closer, hammer hits] Some of y’all’ll read this, see it clear, Find that the same fucks run your sphere. Secret hands runnin' cities and nations, Movin' souls like product stations. No ghost stories here — just blood and wire, Paper trails stacked to the fuckin' spire. I ain't your savior — I’m the map you burn, Follow the ashes — you’ll see who turn. Perfect love throws fear in a ditch, We walk through hell and never flinch. The meek gon' storm these bloody halls, When these fake-ass thrones start to fall. [Outro – Distant, heavy, glitched] You act the part. They write the play. You live in dark. I blaze the way.