Correction Paroles Anxiety par Chvse

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Paroles

(Now, think about your life right now and how it's going for you
CaliberBeats.com
I mean, how's it going? Is it going well? Is it going bad?
I mean, are you working all the time? Are you not having any fun? Are you, uh, missing out? Uh, is there passion in your life or are you just going through the motions?)

Uh, yo, and I constantly get hate
But, up inside the game
The hypocrisy is raised
We went from real music to Broccoli being played
Yo, 'Pac would be disgraced
If he knew the music changed

Is it me, or is it just a phony?
Following the orders of what the system has told me
Low key, I don't wanna live life lonely
But, every girl f*cked me over with one of my homies

Man, so what you know about anxiety?
Popping pills to stop the pills to struggle with it quietly
How am I supposed to raise a child in this society
Knowing damn well he's gonna toss away sobriety?
'Cause I did and shit, I'm only seventeen
Thought of myself as nothin', but seen happiness ain't guarantee
Living a life that is a bear bare with the misery
Y'all don't know the half of what depression really did to me

Staying up at night, wondering if I was good enough
They said I'm the bomb, if it's true, then I would erupt
Obviously not, 'cause I stopped where I shouldn't of
Honestly I'm not a God, the problem is we look above
But, what if God shared the Earth with the humans
And seen every tactical method that we're abusin'
And heard every lyrical melody in our music
To learn more about the human brain than what we're losin'
They always said that Satan had a lot of tricks
So, what if Satan's God and he taught us how to live?
Yo, that would mean that right is wrong
And all along, we've been praisin'
The wrong God and thrown into Hell's pit, so shit

Yo, that's my high mind talkin'
Dead man walkin'
Livin' life while in the coffin
I'll never sell out just to make a f*cking profit
These autotune rappers sounding like the Stephen Hawkin

I got a statement that is kinda hypothetic
The rhyme is good, but how you rhyme's pathetic
Yo, I don't get it, on how you even made it this far
While mumbling with pitch corrections, never spitting a bar
Yo, I'm a young rapper, with the mind of a zone
So f*ck a label, I can do it better when I'm alone
'Cause if I sign, then I'll turn my f*cking passion to stone
I don't need a team of eight just for my rapping to grow
It's like all that I've known
Has vanished into the air
But, I've been dealing with pain
So all my lyrics compare
To all the real f*cking tragedies that happened this year
So, find your passion instead of smoking' and sippin' a beer

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