Alright… yeah… yeah… yeah Now all the people acting fake to me, Get from me, ’cause it’s hate you’ll see. I don’t care if it’s meant to strengthen me, That’s your opinion, I don’t want your influence. I don’t want your parent scripts, Get too close and we’ll throw on a pair of mitts. I go violent on the beat, instrumental terrorist, Dark narrative, not one care to give. Got bloody fists and bloody shins, ’Cause I like to wear my blood on the outside of skin. I’m a psycho, you’ll always question, “Does he got a knife though?” You might be right, bro, That’s the fucked-up part, I might even know. It isn’t always for someone, maybe it’s for me, Maybe just to protect me, Maybe just neglect me, Maybe it’s the part of me that never learned to let me be. I learned to read a room before I ever learned to trust it, Every smile gets dissected, every handshake gets adjusted. You can call it paranoia, I call it staying conscious, ’Cause the moment that you lower your guard is when they want you thoughtless. I got voices in the logic, contradictions in the motive, One side wants the silence, one side wants to expose it. I don’t follow every thought, but I damn sure keep track, ’Cause sometimes my own mind puts a mask on what I lack. I laugh in the chaos, keep my pulse underneath, Say I’m fine with a straight face, I really mean it without grinding my teeth. There’s a method to the madness, but the method keeps shifting, Every time I think I found myself, something else starts resisting. I don’t need an audience, I don’t need validation, People have been studying me making it into a fucked-up investigation. Every flaw gets catalogued, every weakness turns the ignition. If I ever show my hand, you can bet that shit was calculated. Maybe I’m twisted, maybe that’s just what they see, Maybe they’re afraid of what I might eventually be. I don’t claim to know the difference between instinct and disease, I just know when the room goes quiet, something wakes up inside of me. So keep your concern and your manufactured sympathy, Don’t psychoanalyze the monster while he’s staring back deep. You wanted something underneath the surface? Fine, look carefully. The worst part isn’t what I hide, It’s what I know you’ll never see. I don’t need to raise my voice, I let the silence talk, Every step calculated, I can hear the pressure knock. I know exactly what they think, that’s what makes it entertaining, They keep searching for a weakness while I’m studying the framing. I’ve been called unstable, dangerous, cold and calculating, Funny how they need a label when they can’t explain the way I’m operating. I don’t fit inside their boxes, I dismantle every definition, Turn their observations into fuel, turn their judgment into ammunition. I know the line is thin, I just don’t pretend it’s wide, I keep both sides of my mind looking each other in the eyes. One says “prove what you’re capable of,” one says “let the moment pass,” I just smile at the contradiction and keep moving through the glass. I’m not here to be understood, I’m here to leave a question, Was it all an act of madness, or meticulous intention? You can study every sentence, every movement, every breath, But the more you think you know me, The less you know what’s left.
