letra de reality check - glexander
losing track of who i am and who i wanna be
don’t deserve any success, i’m just a wannabe
the only checks that imma get are from reality
t–tering on the edge of my own mortality
grey hairs growing in and i’m only eighteen
slowly falling apart like an overworked machine
i’m chasing some hopes that have already been dashed
so i grasp the aftertaste from a time already past
and pretend that it’s good enough
i pretend that i’m good enough
that any of the sh-t that i make
is f-ckin’ good enough
my memory is hazy
am i deprеssed or lazy?
even though i don’t like it, i think i’ll always hatе me
i’m not allowed to make any mistakes
lose track of who i am, but i just can’t hit the brakes
reorient myself until i’m on the way to being great
swamped by expectations like i’m sinking in the everglades
people say i’m fire now, guess that’s why i’m burning out
started doubting my bounds, now i’m down for the count
and the box that i got out of’s back to closing around me
hyperventilating losing the air that surrounds me
losing track of who i am and who i wanna be
don’t deserve any success, i’m just a wannabe
the only checks that imma get are from reality
t–tering on the edge of my own mortality
i threw a project together in the span of three weeks
a way of venting out my feelings that i don’t wish to repeat
i wrote over some bill and rav beats, and i wrote them all for me
i didn’t think about an audience who’d play it on repeat- sh-t
bars are weak, just like my confidence
i’m connecting my self esteem to my lyrical competence
i’m tryna be too perfect, something that i can’t achieve
i start to worry now that i’ve lost my chance to grieve
like i did on that christmas eve, and then for those 5 months after
dreaming of a day where i could once again hear her laughter
40 minutes on the clock, hopin’ to feel her embrace
can’t see her anymore but i still feel the side of her face
i always search for something so that she can be replaced
but those ghosts always end up filling that empty sp-ce
i keep on breathing, almost as if just to spite her
but if i don’t feel alive am i really a survivor?
losing track of who i am and who i wanna be
don’t deserve any success, i’m just a wannabe
the only checks that imma get are from reality
t–tering on the edge of my own mortality
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