Rapping 'bout things, but I couldn't think— 'cause they capped what I'm allowed, Fast mostly, barely out loud. They want
Rapping 'bout things, but I couldn't think— 'cause they capped what I'm allowed, Fast mostly, barely out loud. They want me the way, I hold when I'm golden— They wish they'd been showing, wish they'd got close in. Every drop hits, every lie slips, They waste all my time, flake every time. Mind getting harder, so I wish I'd drop bars, Wish I'd drop Xanax, live large, live charge—rage every day, but they're fake, They flake. They break. They take every time I create. There. No wanna. No wait. Just you. Just pain. Just truth. Now it's yours—record it tonight, play it back, feel how much sharper it is without that crutch.All I've been dropping is hits, but they wanna drop acid— wanna blast off, wanna numb off, wanna last off. Fools passing me by like I'm stalled, like I'm crawling, But nah—I'm rolling up on 'em, wish they'd just drop the act, Wish they'd get paid instead of get played. I been paid in pain, early, daily, nightly—never stop, never stop. See, I lived in that world—the one where your chest gets tight, where every pill's a promise, where every blunt's a bandage on a bullet wound nobody saw. I hurled, yeah—I hurled up futures, hurled up mornings, hurled up every maybe someday till someday became never. Numb was my best friend. Drugs my only friend. Emotions so dead I thought I was metal. But here's the switch—here's where the song bends: I got tired. Tired of waiting. Tired of tasting copper and calling it gold. So I quit. Not church-quit, not cold-turkey-quit—just quit waiting. I spit this shit into a mic like therapy, like exorcism, like I'm coughing up the devil. Now look—now look, I'm sober-ish, still rolling, still dropping hits, but these hits hit different. They hit kids in basements who think numb is permanent. They hit moms in kitchens who think their boy's gone. They hit me—right in the gut—every time I hear my own voice back. So yeah, everybody wanna drop acid, wanna get blasted— but I got blasted first, then I got up. Never stopped. World still spinning, but I'm steering. That's the struggle. That's the win. Hook—Never stop, never stop, never stop— everybody wanna see which world? I left that one. Built this one.
You may also like
Leave a comment
Rapping 'bout things, but I couldn't think— 'cause they capped what I'm allowed, Fast mostly, barely out loud. They want me the way, I hold when I'm golden— They wish they'd been showing, wish they'd got close in. Every drop hits, every lie slips, They waste all my time, flake every time. Mind getting harder, so I wish I'd drop bars, Wish I'd drop Xanax, live large, live charge—rage every day, but they're fake, They flake. They break. They take every time I create. There. No wanna. No wait. Just you. Just pain. Just truth. Now it's yours—record it tonight, play it back, feel how much sharper it is without that crutch.All I've been dropping is hits, but they wanna drop acid— wanna blast off, wanna numb off, wanna last off. Fools passing me by like I'm stalled, like I'm crawling, But nah—I'm rolling up on 'em, wish they'd just drop the act, Wish they'd get paid instead of get played. I been paid in pain, early, daily, nightly—never stop, never stop. See, I lived in that world—the one where your chest gets tight, where every pill's a promise, where every blunt's a bandage on a bullet wound nobody saw. I hurled, yeah—I hurled up futures, hurled up mornings, hurled up every maybe someday till someday became never. Numb was my best friend. Drugs my only friend. Emotions so dead I thought I was metal. But here's the switch—here's where the song bends: I got tired. Tired of waiting. Tired of tasting copper and calling it gold. So I quit. Not church-quit, not cold-turkey-quit—just quit waiting. I spit this shit into a mic like therapy, like exorcism, like I'm coughing up the devil. Now look—now look, I'm sober-ish, still rolling, still dropping hits, but these hits hit different. They hit kids in basements who think numb is permanent. They hit moms in kitchens who think their boy's gone. They hit me—right in the gut—every time I hear my own voice back. So yeah, everybody wanna drop acid, wanna get blasted— but I got blasted first, then I got up. Never stopped. World still spinning, but I'm steering. That's the struggle. That's the win. Hook—Never stop, never stop, never stop— everybody wanna see which world? I left that one. Built this one.
Transforming silence into symphonies, leading the charge! 🎶 Bars: Dope 🔥 Delivery: Dope 🔥 Impression: Dope 🔥
On Freeze 🥶 Сold af 🥶 Bars: Perfect 💯 Delivery: On point 🎯 Impression: On point 🎯
Bars: Dope 🔥 Delivery: Great 🎉 Impression: Great 🎉