VERSE ONE

Uh...
Got a nigga in a psych ward type of feeling...
Mic hits the voice, I just might be kissing
death with no chap stick.
Alphabet of suicide, the letters I rap with.
Fuck a song, nigga. This is arsenic trapped in
a sixteen bar structure. Over beats, it's just masking
a whole lot of baggage attached to my verses.
There ain't no clean versions. Getting free can be dirty.
I swear, depression often is the only shit that makes me spit.
The chemical imbalance in my brain should get partial credit.
Ghost writer, nigga. Word to Quentin Miller.
Ask me how I'm doing, this verse is the answer given.
It demands a listen, spilling out the static that inhabits my body.
Spilling out emotion exploding. Shit's Godly.
You probably heard this song before.
Know the words, just along. Just sing along, y'all...

CHORUS (X2)

Can you spare a little hope…
Can’t see through all this smoke,
I swear that I’m close to the end of my rope…
Can you spare a little hope…
Tell a nigga some good news,
cuz the truth is I’m this close to giving up the ghost.

VERSE TWO

Woke up to trap music blaring through my window.
6am, crust around my eyes. It’s all so simple…
Why a nigga can’t rest. Life’s a test I never studied for.
So, I lay awake in my bed, and waste away
my whole day. It’s getting hard to motivate myself
to get up. Niggas view my raps as a cry for help.
But, I know I’m not alone. Everybody has their own
war they fight anytime they step out of their door.
Life is vicious. Everyone I know is depressed…
Tapped out and stressed…
Feeling like the world’s a burden latched around their neck.
Forgive my lack of panic.
But, uncertainty’s a fact of life, and it’s fucking standard.
Oh so boring at this point. Can’t afford to really worry.
Yet I’m worried at my lack of worry,
verdict on myself as if I am my own jury.
This song, you already heard it,
know the words, just sing along.
Just sing along, y’all.

CHORUS (X2)

VERSE THREE

God knows I’m a fucking disaster.
I feel like everyone can see it on my face.
I feel like everybody knows that I’m a fuck-up.
I feel like everybody’s at their last gasp
when it comes to me. Maybe I deserve to lose.
I did shit to myself. Maybe, I’m beyond saving.
Maybe I retreat deeper into my psyche…
Refuge in a house of horrors, probably ain’t likely
that I’ll find salvation there.
It’s clear I’m depriving myself of air…
Always preach self-care unless it’s me who needs it.
Always see through bullshit unless it’s me who breeds it.
Everything’s in flames. All I see smoke,
all I wanna do scream, but my voice is engulfed…
I’m choking on my own destruction,
at the end of my rope…
Light at the end of tunnel, but darkness still got a hold…
I’m giving up the…….