Regurgitation

underground hip hop, horrorcore-leaning, experimental hip hop

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V5.5

[PART 1: GUTTER TALK]
I was pulled from the gutter, Thrown in a mud puddle, Held down to drown by God, Then helped up by the Devil.
Looked them both in the eye, Smiled with a tear of “I’m better.” No worse than before The last feeling that made me tell her.
Karma’s kiss Was the first time I felt her.
Selling my fear of sin, Sold with sense To make me sell her.
I shelter emotional letters, Underground escape routes, Hidden within words Stamped and sent before I met her.
I begged her. I pleaded. Pledged my allegiance.
I needed to breathe.
[DJ SCRATCH]
[PART 2: HER]
Until I seen her indecent reasons, Bare naked truths, Stripped of lies, Pleased teasing.
Deepened with depths That keeps the keeping kept.
Creeping. Crawling. Creature of darkness calling.
Lust of a first touch. Blanketed hush.
Fake tears washing luck.
Daddy issues swallowing breath.
Eyes closed. Will broke.
Blessed but never rose.
Above her place of pardon.
Sorry she always took hardened drops.
Dripped dry.
Dropped and lost.
[BEAT CHANGE]
[PART 3: THE SYSTEM]
Advocating for the advocate.
Giving everything at once, But nothing at everything’s cost.
Blinded by choices chosen.
Decisions pre-imposed.
Parentally placed.
Perfectly disproportionate.
Predetermined positions.
Social torture.
Genetic dreams.
Repeated themes.
Living dying Inside a world at war.
Peace remains in pieces.
Scattered puzzles Across the floor.
[DJ SCRATCH]
“What am I even writing about?”
[PART 4: BRAIN CHEMISTRY]
Work weighs heavy.
Stress fills my belly.
Serotonin mixes emotions.
Dopamine hits me.
But only if I let it.
Synaptic reactions collapse.
Neuroleptic transactions.
Social attacks.
Black-and-white trash acts.
Psychological warfare.
Consciousness plagued.
Day to night.
Night to day.
Scripted plays.
Close-minded strays.
Lost in a maze.
Searching everywhere else Instead of themselves.
[BEAT DROP]
[PART 5: NPC]
Artificial intelligence.
NPC existence.
Nothing to see.
Nothing to be.
Nothing proves everything exists Inside of nothing.
But that doesn’t make sense.
And that’s when we think.
THAT’S WHEN WE THINK.
Where have I been?
Stuck in books.
Stuck in notes.
Stuck in floating goals.
Feeding on lies.
Puking truths.
Shitting addictive beliefs.
Running relief.
Created by creators Creating creation.
Promising greatness.
[DJ SCRATCH]
[PART 6: RELIGION]
Three cheers For the pricks that birthed a line Of molded times.
Religious agendas.
Pretending to pretend.
Magicians suspending thought.
Hiding secrets.
Questionable blasphemy.
Who defends us?
God?
The Devil?
Christ?
The preacher?
The teacher?
Or the voice inside us?
[BEAT SWITCH]
[PART 7: PIMP TALK]
I’m a poetic God.
Finger-fucked by thought.
Putting blame back and forth Between the lips of raw.
Dawg.
Walked away With Christ’s real name Beating my heart.
I ain’t Protestant.
Baptist.
Mormon.
Catholic.
I’m whatever survives When the labels fall apart.
Chain dangling.
Hat bent.
Fur coat matching.
Holy Ghost got the message.
Wheeeew…
[PART 8: THE JOKE]
Button-up too bright.
Comb-over too tight.
Dad hat.
Penny loafers.
Hey Dudes.
Thong sandals.
Social media versions Of ourselves.
Everybody posing.
Everybody selling.
Everybody yelling.
Nobody listening.
I’m on my Drake shit.
“Ain’t no tellin’.”
[FINAL PART: HOPE]
BUT WAIT.
There’s still hope.
There’s still breath.
There’s still choice.
There’s still movement.
There’s still change.
There’s still Life.
There’s still us.
There’s still tomorrow.
There’s still meaning.
There’s still reason.
There’s still…
Three Days Grace.
“It’s Never Too Late.”
[OUTRO]
Maybe that’s enough.

3550/7500

[PART 1: GUTTER TALK] I was pulled from the gutter, Thrown in a mud puddle, Held down to drown by God, Then helped up by the Devil. Looked them both in the eye, Smiled with a tear of “I’m better.” No worse than before The last feeling that made me tell her. Karma’s kiss Was the first time I felt her. Selling my fear of sin, Sold with sense To make me sell her. I shelter emotional letters, Underground escape routes, Hidden within words Stamped and sent before I met her. I begged her. I pleaded. Pledged my allegiance. I needed to breathe. [DJ SCRATCH] [PART 2: HER] Until I seen her indecent reasons, Bare naked truths, Stripped of lies, Pleased teasing. Deepened with depths That keeps the keeping kept. Creeping. Crawling. Creature of darkness calling. Lust of a first touch. Blanketed hush. Fake tears washing luck. Daddy issues swallowing breath. Eyes closed. Will broke. Blessed but never rose. Above her place of pardon. Sorry she always took hardened drops. Dripped dry. Dropped and lost. [BEAT CHANGE] [PART 3: THE SYSTEM] Advocating for the advocate. Giving everything at once, But nothing at everything’s cost. Blinded by choices chosen. Decisions pre-imposed. Parentally placed. Perfectly disproportionate. Predetermined positions. Social torture. Genetic dreams. Repeated themes. Living dying Inside a world at war. Peace remains in pieces. Scattered puzzles Across the floor. [DJ SCRATCH] “What am I even writing about?” [PART 4: BRAIN CHEMISTRY] Work weighs heavy. Stress fills my belly. Serotonin mixes emotions. Dopamine hits me. But only if I let it. Synaptic reactions collapse. Neuroleptic transactions. Social attacks. Black-and-white trash acts. Psychological warfare. Consciousness plagued. Day to night. Night to day. Scripted plays. Close-minded strays. Lost in a maze. Searching everywhere else Instead of themselves. [BEAT DROP] [PART 5: NPC] Artificial intelligence. NPC existence. Nothing to see. Nothing to be. Nothing proves everything exists Inside of nothing. But that doesn’t make sense. And that’s when we think. THAT’S WHEN WE THINK. Where have I been? Stuck in books. Stuck in notes. Stuck in floating goals. Feeding on lies. Puking truths. Shitting addictive beliefs. Running relief. Created by creators Creating creation. Promising greatness. [DJ SCRATCH] [PART 6: RELIGION] Three cheers For the pricks that birthed a line Of molded times. Religious agendas. Pretending to pretend. Magicians suspending thought. Hiding secrets. Questionable blasphemy. Who defends us? God? The Devil? Christ? The preacher? The teacher? Or the voice inside us? [BEAT SWITCH] [PART 7: PIMP TALK] I’m a poetic God. Finger-fucked by thought. Putting blame back and forth Between the lips of raw. Dawg. Walked away With Christ’s real name Beating my heart. I ain’t Protestant. Baptist. Mormon. Catholic. I’m whatever survives When the labels fall apart. Chain dangling. Hat bent. Fur coat matching. Holy Ghost got the message. Wheeeew… [PART 8: THE JOKE] Button-up too bright. Comb-over too tight. Dad hat. Penny loafers. Hey Dudes. Thong sandals. Social media versions Of ourselves. Everybody posing. Everybody selling. Everybody yelling. Nobody listening. I’m on my Drake shit. “Ain’t no tellin’.” [FINAL PART: HOPE] BUT WAIT. There’s still hope. There’s still breath. There’s still choice. There’s still movement. There’s still change. There’s still Life. There’s still us. There’s still tomorrow. There’s still meaning. There’s still reason. There’s still… Three Days Grace. “It’s Never Too Late.” [OUTRO] Maybe that’s enough.

0/500