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letra de dressed like rappers - jay browne

[verse]
i contemplate death as often as life’s dreams
and the darkness rushes back to my mind at light speed
even on my coldest nights no never do i freeze
some people still dressed like rappers just like me
y’all never seen inside of trap house or field
or try to take a final exam coming off pills
or have to hit the road to keep up with them bills
edicius don’t ever pump fake shoot to k!ll
and i don’t ever speak when it comes time for thе split
stories you hear about me, you choose if they’re legit
i’m not claiming i’m perfect or didn’t add to the rift
but all who i left behind, they never turned into sh-t
maybe it’s just my ego, the shadow casted is large
they never match my sonics, these hedges keep out the hogs
why should i have to jump through to deserve applause?
i never lost any friends, feel like shedded the frauds
pain that i feel from y’all misdeeds
grow from the seeds of misfortune from the fig trees
b-tch please
can’t bow down you lack half my divinity
i had to take the mask off my f-cking masculinity
people wanna strip you to the bone for satisfaction
you gone be alone when you atone for your actions
life is what you make it truth is naked
yeah i’m close(d) off
new apparel staring down that barrel when i doze off
self hatred make you spite your face and cut your nose off
brand new blood stained carpet, wriggle your toes on
how many people gone love you once they know?
who’s giving you game and who just tryna control you?
2017, self check-in diagnosis
you don’t live by the book then they claiming you bi polar
couldn’t spend my whole life selling a fry and soda
so i’m serving sam and sandra, they fried, check my aroma
gas that they selling by the light pole
depression sucked the air out of my lungs, this whole sh-t just got lipo
so misunderstood and the cold isolation
got me day-dreaming bout razor blades across they faces
n0body can relate to you close or even adjacent
b’out to put it to my chest, no stethoscope, i’m losing patience
tryna do the right thing
401 k picket fence and a wife thing
gavels, white hoods, yellow badges on the right wing
pressure feel just like the summertime eating ice cream
i can see the way you looking at me out ya side eye
n-ggas told me everything you said p-ssy, so why lie?
i just keep it moving, y’all be tweaking off the wifi
then i bounce by myself, n-gga, voila
magic
but if i disappear, go off the edge then it’s tragic
y’all just keep on trying me forever and i’ve had it
these b-tches have the temerity, nerve, even the gall
i’m itching to shoot at you, peace treaties give me withdrawals
how can you comment on my interior at all
when you let a n-gga without a foundation paint up your walls?
life has been humbling you constantly lil’ b-tch
and still you want me to continue digging your ditch?
go head and keep barking, beat the dog sh-t out of you
without a pause, drag you by your mothaf-cking collar too
every single flaw that i have is on display
and everything y’all do for applause, b-tch it’s fake
i can’t keep bringing myself down for your cowardice
lack of self confidence, p-ssy you all powerless
wannabe superstar, fronting like you super hard
shots you tryna send the same ones you getting showered in
f-ck n-ggas standing next to you already know
not to ever speak my name cuz the gun is ready to blow
i will leave your vest wetter than a seagulls chest
from the trauma i write, n-ggas know that we go left
i used to deal with depression like an eagles nest
i treat the suicide attempts like an ego death
finding out she creeping on me, yeah it figures
assuming that i’m finally worth it, stupid n-gga
the most important thing that i learned this year is 4 years ago i should’ve pulled the f-cking trigger
i k!ll the hooks, lyrics, cadence, content, concept
going dummy on the track and still provide the conscious
dummy’s speaking on my name without providing context
but i guess you rarely get on with being honest
and i’m bout to empty the clip, the new stick, so who wan’ test?
if i gave a single f-ck it wouldn’t be a contest
if i gave a single f-ck it wouldn’t be a contest
dressed like rappers, my external/internal conflict

- jay browne

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