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letra de id my head (intro) - clay cockrell

[intro: superego]
welcome to an atrocious abstract art-rap alb-m

[verse 1: ego]
i want my smiles to curve and my concepts to bewilder
i want my meanings to inspire and my lyrics to have no filter
i want my lines to flow and haters to be off kilter
i want my beats to knock and my mouth to have no filter
and if you can’t respect that then “f-ck you”
check, coming for your necks, i don’t rest
cause nas said, “it’s the cousin of death”

[verse 2: ego]
people have probably used many of my lines before
but i’m too lazy to look them up
and too lethargic to write some more
but ironically tonight i’ll probably go and write some more
cause i have to scribble pencil to perpetuate that i’m right some more
the other day, someone said that i was no longer him
the one they once knew and they wanted me to be that man again
so i stood in one place for days like a hunger strike in front of parliament
until eventually in a daze, i realized what they really meant

[verse 3: ego]
living nearly one third of my life in a cl-ssroom
sucking up the information with expectations to use it soon
maybe i could write a song about advanced quantum physics
maybe i can write a song about western linguistics
like did you know the hysteria is derived from the latin “hystericus”
which translates to “the womb,” society’s misogynistic arrogance

[verse 4: ego]
haven’t left my room in three days going into hibernation
i’ve stored tunes for two moons, now it’s time for meditation
i’m the new buddha, chanting some old buddhist prayer
i just broke a really old record on my new 2k player
listening to old rap records on my new record player
statistically determining my own boundaries, a self-surveyor
just got into a sugar crash, the results weren’t too severe
don’t worry, you don’t have to listen twice, there’s not another layer

[verse 5: ego & superego]
i set out to make sonically abstract art
but meaning seeped into the lyrics making the whole concept fall apart
so now i lay in a puddle of tears, wallowing in my broken heart
disqualifying me for the masculine olympics like a false start
but what can i say? i care about my craft
i’ve put in a whole year of effort just on this one rough draft
“you wrote this yesterday”
“hey conscious! stop being daft
we made a pact to always stick together, don’t you remember that
in fact, i think i have a contract to contrast your attack on my character”
i p-ssed the fat pack of paper and maniacally laughed

[outro: id]
-laughing-
welcome to an atrocious abstract art-rap alb-m

- clay cockrell

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