Vent (Prod. Dahm)

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This isn't about love
This isn't about hate
This isn't about money
This isn't about sex
This is about expression
It's been about a month since she left and I'm writing this
I feel alright, but it still feels like it's not right, it's just
being alone in this house without her lacks happiness
contemplating the days that I spent with her in this cloudiness
just smoking dope on the couch and blocking her out
I know that she tried her best but i just filled her up with doubt
I hate the way that I acted whenever she would go out
I'm not, to badly broken, but still I'm smoking to much
like loosing this love's less lucid when smoking it to the crutch
been cursed way since before cursive been carving this with my touch
Still feel like I didn't need her, but missing her way to much
Here comes another rap about a girl he fucking misses
why does this kid keep getting caught up in these fucking bitches
It's like he spitting caustic, he's burning her face with venom
starting to feel less nautious and searching for other woman
only feels happy when spitting over these fucking rythems
I guess it's nothing i'm making due with what I've been giving
not living easy, believe me, but I'm still fucking chilling
spitting like super villians, don't give a fuck who's illin
show me that fuck and I promise you I can spit and kill em
with my freestyling i'll show you what is real lyracism
I spit it raw and frigid, they lie bout fucking bitches
I think they nothing, so fuck them, they not the kings of spitting
I'll spit what I've been thinking, but yall don't wanna hear it
you'd rather listen to mumble rappers and shitty lyrics
like what the fuck are you kidding me this is only bullshit
they get on stage and they act like they is the fucking coolest
but they aint fooling me, and in fact you is fucking foolish
You'd rather be a tool just so you could be feeling coolish
well fuck your fantasy, honestly, it's not well thought out
instead of doing that I would rather be bumping music loud
I'm probably not the person to make my fucking mama proud
sitting here spitting shit to show everyone who's well endowed
yo, right or wrong, I'll be sitting here writing songs
while i'm puffing a pipe or bong, I'm just burning it by the gram
unless some of this catches on, and I'm finally making money
getting chicks in hot sarongs, to bad that writing this shit
doesn't mean I'm getting their thongs, the king of the hipocrits
with the critical spit, the bomb, am I an ill lyracist?
or is everything I say wrong? cause fucking ups way to easy
when staying up way to long. I'm feeling like going crazy
but crazy just won't come on, that's why I'm rolling one up
and i'm rapping up top some dahm, I'm loosing my fucking cool
but I'm keeping my flowing calm, in tune with the sleazy rythem when generating this song
I know I got it, I get it, but still I'm always late
tryna spit a little bit better, but still they don't relate
So I won't tolerate any more of this nonsense from these fakes
hashing out reality contemplating on my mistakes,
I only wrote this so I could just vent a minute
I've never had any interest in tricking you with some gimmick
or getting your kids to mimic, this terrible fucking image
would rather not have them witness, ridiculous shit I'm spitting
i'm sick of hearing them listening, to robbing killing and pimping
and acting like that shits dope, when it's actually fucking fiction
and honestly smoking dope the way I do is an addiction
not something that I would like to have people thinking is bitchen

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About the Artist

Member since April 16 2016

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