Reality Check

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 I'ma get are from rеality
Teetering on the edgе of my own mortality

Gray hairs growing in, and I'm only eighteen
Slowly falling apart, like an overworked machine
I'm chasing after some hopes that have already been dashed
So I grasp the aftertaste from a time already passed
And pretend that it's good enough, I pretend that I'm good enough
That any of the shit that I make is fuckin' good enough
My memory is hazy, am I depressed or lazy?
Even though I don't like it, I think I'll always hate 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 and 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, yeah

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 I'ma get are from reality
Teetering 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
Huh, shit... 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 five months after
Dreaming of a day where I could once again hear her laughter
Forty minutes on the clock, hopin' to feel her embrace
I 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 space
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 I'ma get are from reality
Teetering on the edge of my own mortality