No solid foundation because I’m unable to stabilize
This chemical imbalance have been blocking my talents
I can’t handle the fact that wack rappers make it to the top in an instant
But I’m persistent on financial assistance

[Verse 1]
Is that big bucks in the distance? I can’t focus because the smoke is
Steaming up the lenses, dreaming of [?] and vengeance
Taxes from cars, phones and dating, but the part that I’m hating
Is when I’m waking up late taking the bus for transportation
This situation I’m facing, plus racing against the clock
It ain’t funny ‘cause, money talks and bullshit walks
The last song was called pressure. Fresher than some kids on labels
But I still got no record deal. How the fuck do I feel?
It goes eight track to that, then to vinyl, now it’s final
And I know, you know there ain’t a fucking chance for a Juno
No chance for a Grammy or a cameo appearance
An example of sample clearance, no interference
Please, you can’t squeeze blood from a stone, the well is dry
At least a piece of the pie would be nice, just a slice
I’m looking dumb holding some crumbs. An empty plate
It’s too late
Enough to make you go mental, yet I’m not quite psychopathic
But thoughts of violence, to graphic
Pack words together like traffic
To describe the pain and torture that be scorching through my veins
Nothing to gain from being trapped in my brain
Claustrophobic
[Sample]
{My-my brain is incarcerated}

[Scratches]