Chapel Of Self Lyrics

Yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah umm

The games like watercolors, am I drowning or drawing

Cuz I'm doubting myself, when I'm feeling the rawest

This ain't good for my health, yeah I'll say it, I'll call it

Don't know if I'm going up or looking down and I'm falling

I can't tell

But either way I do it so well

Either magic for the game or I'm under the spell

Promised I'd never tell but I believe in myself

So if I'm taking this L then I'm deceiving myself

I can't take that,

Grab the belt where's my waist at

Face facts, I paid for the oil that the snake had

I still have the same stats, no one plays that

Take a look at my bar I had to raise that

And I'm not hitting the charts but shit I say facts

Take a look at these stars I know I ain't that

I'm just playing my part and I can't fake that

Wait you think this song is a start?

Nah I hate that

So tell me why do I do it

I keep on making this music, no influence

Just a problem that I can't leave unproven

And I'm improving

But moving up has been a disaster

Swear I'm killing the game if it ain't killing me faster

Just another rapper caught in the mix

I ain't shit but I'm trying to be big

(I wanna be big)

The stars is where I aimed as a kid

But they don't tell you what to do if you miss

(I'll keep on wishing)

Funny how the way that I talk to myself changes

Waging war on myself, my mind's dangerous

Think my cadence needs help, it's too basic

I just hope my hate for myself could fuel greatness

Said I wouldn't drown in my mound of hang ups

Sundown work till it comes round to raise up

My pals at the house early practicing layups

Maybe we're both clowns for hoping our dreams save us (honk honk)

And I don't say much cause I'd rather let my work talk

Used to hoop too but I didn't have the vert dog

So I work hard to make all of my work art

Swinging for the fences but life keeps throwing curve balls

Swerve off

To park and write these stanzas

Heard you were broke, well me too, let's man up

Yeah I want the ice and the gift but I'm not Santa

Hoping if I'm rich I could stop throwing these tantrums

But I'm still mad about it

All the doubt and empty promises that fall around me

Thought I'd make it by the fall but now my schedule's crowded

Thoughts are running through my head, I think they got a bounty

Toughness that's my only talent

Jackson is my fucking son,

And so is fucking Matt yeah