Blood in the Ink

But something's amiss, what doesn't fit?
Something's a disconnect, something's a fib
Something is nothing like what it should spin
What if I'm cut and there's blood in the ink?

Slit wrists, written in red, but I'll never let this sin get into my head
I been stitching this set like a vision of death, and I've given my breath to this animus, bent
On becoming the one thing that can't be suppressed... I've been blessed
I'm a written religion, I'm sick and I live in contempt and regret, so sever my head
God dammit... so I might never know the brighter side
Even though I write these rhymes like iv's drip my mind right to the
Page out my veins, pained in a crisis with my life in lines
This is the only way I know how to stifle all the strife inside
I spit the sickest raps after picking brittle scabs
And bloodletting a flood, every pump begets a track
So fuck the fickle "facts" from these punks pitching trash
Cuz my blood is in like every lyric sung, it's a wrap

I've invested myself in my music too deep through beats
Over which I've wrote and I've spewed speech, looseleaf
And I don't ever want a new creed
My chemical components are as dope as what you shoot, g
That heroin, I'm heroic in the flow I'm barking
Arsenic in my arteries, I'm motioning to notes in harming
Harmonies, they're part of me, I'm coping with the dark in me
Arguably my hardened heathen heart is charred from scarring heat (YES)
Clinically depressed with a brilliant mind
Cuz I'm filled with rhymes and I'm about to steal your shine
Run, I've killed ill lines like a billion times
And I can put you outta ya misery, euthanize your time signature
I'm Saucie sizzle, I'll drizzle in the beer you're drinking
Trickle in toxins sick from my awesome lyricism
I twist up a tourniquet, pick my perfect pocket pen and script it
I'm Inking this quill with vividness, thrills, and mixing venom with this blood

I'm buried in the underground, scary sinners, other sounds
Ain't no listens when I drop shit, hot scripts isn't what it's about
But something's amiss, what doesn't fit? Something's a disconnect, something's a fib
Something is nothing like what it should spin, what if I'm cut and there's blood in the ink?
Uh... So what if I've been cut up
So What if I've been pummeled to a bloody pulp, what up?
What if all the fucked up rubbish that I come up
With isn't what you thought it was and blood is what it comes from?
So every seething speechless me screaming
Is teeming with feed for leeches, keep bleeding
And bleating on beats, the GOAT? Who's he? Fleeting
This scene is a demon, Tisse is deep breathing



Credits
Writer(s): Sauce Is Matisse
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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