Face to face
Bitch, I withhold the wrath
I hate my face. so no photographs
Go call a spade a spade
I’ve just been known to rap
About my day to day, barely social ass
I’ve been so exact on the flows
I map out as the moments pass
I feel hopeless, trapped with my woes
There’s no going back
Going in circles like a cul-de-sac
Complain about life
Mom said, “not to play victim”
I’m moving nonstop like I’m holding my piss in
I’m proving the top
From the bottom view glistens
But from their perspective
Still feels like a prison
Respect or stay smitten
Step to commitment
Spazzing on the beat
Like it’s a medical condition
Been steady under the strict condition
Everyone that listens
Play their fucking position
Shut the fuck up
Fighting my demons
Motherfucker, knuck if you buck
Enough is enough
I’ve been stuck on a page of the same chapter
Chitter chatter, swagger
Have a lot of hazards
Sharp as motherfucking bloody daggers
Haggard
I’ve had been unpacking habits to cabinets
No cap, I catapult past this shit
Madness to feed all the masses bitch
Freaks and geeks
Love a beat like a masochist
Like the hoes that attract the simps
Sink their battleship
While the pen strikes
Give in to grimace
I bend light
Gripping good riddance
I sense life
Grow then dissemble in dead nights
Lead life
Into the trenches
I’ll never mend sights
Surrender cause I was condemned
The depth, bright as the headlights
Wait until my next life
Nothing seemed to get right
Scratching the surface like fucking head lice
The darkness could shed light
In a moment, I could go from so high to so low
Still getting high, I ride solo
They’ll never know though
The truth is below hope
Pull over and blow smoke
Row the boat, slow poke
You barely float on the flows
I barely cope with this prose
Behold the culprit of my motive
That they’ll never know
Slow motion, lose my focus
On this lonely road
Slow motion, taking potions

Timid ticking time bomb
Sick wickedness, I flaunt
Vigor lit as bygones
Being bit by pythons
Brittle wrists have a little grip
On depression
By dawn
Uphill battles will travel up to the hill I die on
By god, holy hell
Only phonies know what’s felt
When homies never show up
To console or help
Holding up these woes like it’s a show and tell
I sure as hell, revolt the spells
All the lonely moments that I know too well
On and on till I’m gone with the songs
Going a mile a minute
Might as well try to finish
They don’t care about the talent
As much as they care about the image
The fallacies are diminished to fantasies
And these gimmicks
I can’t agree with their inner
I’m damned to be just a cynic
Stand on feet, front and center
I handle dreams like a vendor
And all these beans make me slender
I’m Jack and the bean stalk
On a fucking bender
In a moment, I could go from so high to so low
Still getting high, I ride solo
They’ll never know though
The truth is below hope
Pull over and blow smoke
Row the boat, slow poke
You barely float on the flows
I barely cope with this prose
Behold the culprit of my motive
That they’ll never know
Slow motion, lose my focus
On this lonely road
Slow motion, taking potions

Slow motion, taking potions
Slow motion, taking potions
Slow motion, slow motion
Slow motion, taking potions
Slow motion, slow motion
Slow motion, taking potions