scrupulous – maybe (everything) part ii freestyle lyrics
i don’t give a f-ck if you’ve given up on me
i just hope you believe enough to live it up with me
when the time comes that i succeed thru optimism and positivity
i reach the peak of what i can do with the lines i conjure out my brain with a rhymes plunger hear the thunder as i cause a blistering blunder
blistering my fingertips with a biro i wonder how long i can keep up feeding this creative hunger
i don’t give a f-ck if you’ve given up on me
i’m a stormy mess driven up river, into the sea
i shiver, i’ve gave nothing less than most of me, i never wanted to be the cool kid but i always wanted to write my name in history
become an enigma, a mystery
with multiple talents from each personality
f-ck what a disorder
you can’t handle my truth
this courtrooms out of order
like a bog toilet clogged, sh-t talking and stirring
motherf-cker lick the spoon, obviously you already have cus this p–ps reoccurring
stuck in the mud like a t-rd, in other words forever plagued by a burden
the fall of a king
how much does it cost to swing the sword with a war you bring
didn’t thanos say
didn’t thanos say, “everything”?
i’ve sat in the chair of despair
faced my demons, not scared
they don’t control me thru the follicles of my hair so beware when i’m dangerous it’s just the trauma i bare deep inside my soul, it’s natural, no demon control, to god i pray to atone, and guide me thru the darkest nights i’m alone, with a box of pills or a blade, with the will to be slain and betrayed by my own hand again, the self–ss-ssination of a king, procrastinating death with the songs that i sing, i just keep asking myself what pain will it bring? how much will it cost?
man, thanos said “everything”
maybe it’s true, i’m the b-tterfly effect
a glitch in life, i’m exhausted
my bodies a mess, a shipwreck
call me evan, i’m not from h-ll or heaven
i’m a miraculous existence that seems to cause conflict and resistance which causes tears and more distance fears and slit wrists and the abuse of the body and mind it makes sense i’m a recluse that’s biding his time, fear of deaths my excuse to not follow the signs, that i’m not meant to be here in this, should i go back to ‘96 and let go before i breath fresh air and exist, before i jam up the switch, snap up my wings, even if it does just so happen to cost f-cking everything
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