I'll tell you that I'm a menace, I'm truly terrible.
My face is unbearable, try to put me against anybody else
and I'll prove to you once and for all we're unpairable.
Look at them and then back at me,
you mean to tell me we're comparable?
I've done and seen a lot of this messed up stuff
these messed up minds invent, you mean to tell me
you've done even just a little bit of this messed up stuff?
Well then bravo, but you better be ready to fess up to it.
I decided to sit down and vent for a little bit
about every single bit of what I view myself as,
it all might be rainbows and glory to you,
but I can't let my past stay in the past.
I'll destroy myself over and over, you keep your casts.
I'll be broken beyond repair and only I decide how long it lasts.
I'll beat myself up as long as it takes
for me to decide what's real and what's fake.
Sometimes you put out some historical masterpieces like this,
and sometimes you're a little late
to the party when you're feeling like this.
I'm not gonna **** myself,
because then that would've made me a slave to this.
I'm not giving in, I'll walk hand in hand with this
at least until God himself rips it all out of me
like the tiny little band-aid I used to pretend to put over this.
Don't feed me this same old pity party talk,
I'm not gonna paint on a smile and I'm not gonna pretend.
I'll own my title as some wicked witch
with some worthless walk to my talk, add another stitch.
Right now I could probably go for days and I can handle this.
After all I'm the writer, the sinner, the "winner", the venter,
the one who survived to pen this death sentence in a pretty little letter.
Made by me and approved by me,
published by me and all conducted by me.
But I'm not the one who's gonna be dead,
just this idea that I'm some good guy, it's all in your head.
I try to live right, but I stumbled and I sure as hell did hit
a lot of bumps on this road, lost count after a couple hundred.
You'd think after all this I'd feel depressed
but honestly I've never felt more motivated
because now I wanna prove myself wrong,
but I'll never say it.
Thought the lowest things about everyone
who's ever been around me.
Assumed the worst, even did some bullying
on someone other than myself.
I know, **** it's shocking!
I've seen a lot of trash on the internet and we've all seen something
but I keep coming back for more
like it was some addiction
that made me question what being good was ever even for.
You see how deep this is, is this all new to you?
It runs through my core
and has me feeling like the smartest corpse you never knew.
Don't take these words for granted,
but don't get the wrong idea about what these words are for.
Don't take this trash of a piece and sell it in the stores,
I guess you could just call this a call to war,
dragging myself all the way down to the floor
so I don't get used to some high life.
I do this to stay humble, to stay connected
to the goal of living good in a real life
even if I've chosen some poor choices so far in my life.
I'm not expecting to change so much and act perfect,
because my tongue is a double-edged knife
and it's ready to strike anyone who gets in my way.
I've gotta control it as much as I can, keep myself far away.
See? I can be some lyrical genius when I want to,
at least when my stupid brain
decides to get in tune with my true feelings.
I can write away
when it comes to destroying me and as far as I'm concerned,
when it comes to being terrible nobody's near me because I never learn.
This is a freestyle. The only thing I changed was a little bit of the structuring.