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letra de delirium - jordan kanine

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i’m trapped in a world where
it’s okay to do nothing at all
i’m trapped in whirlwind
full of hate and doubt

i’m a little confused. i stay home locked in a room just working my b-tt off
but nowadays people get famous for twerking they b-tt off
maybe a wire went loose because the rules changed at the intermission
if you want to make it in entertainment industry then you better start kissing

as soon as i point that out, folks hate on the truth of the matter like i’m bringing to light to way too much
just call me scissorhands. cause i ruin everything that i touch
rappers talk about money and women like they deserve a medal
rapping about etcetera. talking about nothing, making instrumentals

music no longer comes from the soul
we’re full of empty hearts
now it’s an empty art

why do dollar bills, control the sounds
on the radio?
i don’t know

i’m trapped in a world where
you’ll get paid to do nothing at all
i’m trapped in whirlwind
full of hate and doubt

you don’t know what i’ve been through
i pray on a regular basis
but after everything
i’m still confused

money, women, drugs. money, women, drugs. all i hear on the radio is money, women, drugs
got thugs in the mix, subs in the mix. go ahead, money, women, drugs in the mix
comfort from the bottom of a bottle, swallow, and wallow in fear
started from bottom, still here. i ride solo, so my whole team’s stuck in here

driving cadillacs in our dreams. cooking up schemes like i bring it to a boil.
what’s hip-hop? when rock is now pebble and metal is now foil?
i’m trying to follow my heart
to the top of the game. and i won’t stop
but then they tell me that we’ll never be royal

never played around in the playground days. got called g-y but i really didn’t care
a lonely poet at the picnic table, making friends with blank stares
got a little hectic, n0body had my back, cool kids stabbed it
narcoleptic friends cause they’re sleeping on me. see if i look past it

jordan all the stuff you write is garbage. you will never be an artist. go and cry about it
if you think you know my mind, then you must be out of it
that’s my hypothesis. until the man upstairs call
i was the kid who ran up the slide because i knew the physics of it all

i’m trapped in a world where
you get hated on for nothing at all
i’m trapped in whirlwind
full of hate and doubt

this feeling of falling
will i get any rest?
no such thing like a safe cigarette

i struggle with internal violence. fighting the inside of my eyelids
dare you to sacrifice. the lesson you learn is priceless
fools don’t believe in the kingdom, but karma
i’m not done until either fame or the reaper come. or when my paycheck has two commas

i thank god that i’ll never have a desk job. i’d turn the company car into a studio van
and then drive until it’s 9 am in dallas, and it’s 1am where i am
like putting your head through the arm hole. that just wouldn’t fit me
like when i’m six feet deep with the devil playing freeze tag, “can’t catch me!”

cheated death. didn’t consider the repercussions
outsmarted death, now i got the reaper cussing
but i don’t want the reaper rushing
so i flirt with death, i got the reaper blushing

found my brain in a state of delirium
crazed with cannibalistic cravings, rappers i’m eating them
literally high off of helium. high school rappers, i ain’t hearing them

somebody told me that i fell off
so i picked it back up right left off
then i dropped two albums and still didn’t get my point across
but i rode that struggle bus until the driver said get off!
like a criminal cop, i got let off
you -ssume too much, like i do this for money
this is all just fun to me, so step off

- jordan kanine

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