(Rap intro)

I’m done with doing this alone

Trying too hard with the digitized

So bring me a sound engineer

Someone with good ears

A technician to fix my gear

A couple of fans n real cheers

Yeah I want the world to hear

What’s been up in the last ten years

Cause running from the money

Means I’m running outta time

As for the media it’s a rainbow mess

Scribbles n graffitia

Reflect my state of mind

Gettn too tangled to untie

Yeah I’m through with them rabbit holes

Sorting files n folders

Feels like a fly trapped in web

Gimme the best and I’ll do the rest

A producer too cause that’s the glue

Gimme a brand I earned that badge

I do believe loyalty deserves royalties

So pretty please sponsor me

So I can sail that ship

I’ll dish it out loud n make em proud

Technics, Native Instruments

Traktor n Hello Kitty

Honda you shared my chords

(I want Goldie back but a Jazz’ll do)

Converse walked me through the blue

(JDRF I’m right behind ya)

And while we’re at it a manager too

Of course I’m gonna need a lawyer

Yeah that’s a no-brainer

And everything in between

Bring it the fuk on

So I can write the next song…

(Verse)

All I want is perfection but all I get is rejection of what I’m projecting

It feels like regression a three-dimensional lesson served up as a lemon

Back in the day there’s no way you’d win the lot without the zing

And not without that invisible thing laced into diamond wings

Now it’s big lips n counterfeit manuscripts

I’m living proof of disparity all I want is clarity but can’t even score charity

Yeah I’m tired of singularity I need a team to marry me

I’d wear that king bling on my finger forever but where are ya?

I can’t even score one click not even a wet-faced dog lick

As for all the fake shit yeah the tik tok soft dick mimicking

Always torn between the mystic munching at the bit like a misfit

What’s the world gonna make of this hissy fit splattered over zero fans

Startn to feel like I got my talent from the bottom of a cereal packet

A tweety bird slammed into defeat rockn centre court without a racquet

Been doing this such a long time it’s a crime of misaligned

Is anyone out there or are you too blind is it that friggn hard to find

Stopped point blank guitar in the corner with guts hanging out

Lookn around at the silent sounds of the bomb I left behind

Yeah it’s a long way spinning to the top down from the mess I’m in

Tryna sing the be bop with a sound so unprofessional…

Here’s to the records never produced that could’ve untied the noose

I’m so sorry mum I couldn’t save you from a million miles away

I wanted to be your saviour yeah this was gonna save ya…