Vent (Prod. Dahm)

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