[Verse 1: Ascetic (As Trey)]
I'm the little voice chillin' in your head
Making your insecurities rise up outta bed
Oh, you're too fat, you got a stain on ya shirt
Your chest is too flat and ya jeans have a little dirt
People know you're weird as fuck and no one cares when you're hurt
Your life fades like a blur, when asked favors you say sure
Because you know you won't fit in and it gets underneath your skin
Irritated from within, damaged
I mean what the fuck is wrong with you, you got must all up on ya shoes
You wear the same thing everyday and you must not have a clue
Not the slightest idea, why you're producing these tears
In popularity scale you are the lowest of tier
Popularity means nothing while these kids are all bumpin'
To popular rappers or watch certain actors, all fundamentals of the same factor
It's all a sin
It's all a sin
It's all a sin

[Verse 2: Nightmare]
I am the deserted castle in the sand
Molded by absurdive children in the land
Low rode in hearses, funeral is planned
Cold flows and purses snatched out from your hand
I'm ZEN, a gold digger
I'm ZEN, a known figure
I'm ZEN, now go figure
How this pen went made me figures
Recent events made me shiver
Expendable cents to dollar figures
Misunderstandable scent, your nose bigger
Fuck the rent, I'll go living
With the dead, my own livers
Are dead, from cold drinkers
Wheres my head? Oh, go figure
It's in the bed, with gold diggers
Ri stole my sense, with a thumb and four fingers
I pulled the trigger, killin' her and Jigga
Im known to linger, just a melancholy singer

V3: Bothered
Well he's prolly, Mr. BOTHERED-Sinister
Parts the seas, coughs and wheeze then starts to finish his verse
Diminish for the worse, malice in his phallus so to speak
With a loaded gun, salvaged the absent mind between
Them temples, ZEN's mental
Leave the head drenched and full of lead metal
Detectives sped to sketch the scene, the neck of me resembles Lentil Soup
Collected the utensils, the spoon that was helpful in the pursuit
Thrown in the body bag, my toes where they knot the tag
I get up from coppin' a nap, they obviously mad that BOTHERED's back
Problem's that, this ain't no beauty pageant
Cruelly laughin' then fruitfully gallop back to the palace
Its ZEN, the talented stallions with medallions barren of defeat
Its BOTHERED, the maddened rapscallion challengin' you to speak
Its Jones, the saddened gallants in the pallet of this beat
And its Teagan, the only valid balance in your taloned feet