HOOK
I went sunkken, sunkken,
room pitch black but the blunt still burning.
Thirty-three with my nerves still jumping,
old flame gone but the smoke keep curling.
I went missing, missing,
had a whole wave, now the phone quit ringing.
Used to feel God when the bassline hit me,
now I stare at the mic like, “What the fuck still in me?”
Sunkken, sunkken,
I ain’t dead, I’m just hard to function.
Trying to strike one match in a flooded engine,
trying to find that kid that I left unfinished.
VERSE 1
I used to walk in rooms like trouble had a face on,
Chicago lights hitting black tees, stage on.
Couple hundred packed in, yelling what I wrote,
now I’m home in the dark with my pride in my throat.
I had motion before they called it motion,
little city buzz, then I drowned in the ocean.
Smart with the work, dumb with the high,
good with the flip, bad with goodbye.
I could talk a man clean out his last few dollars,
then go home sick like, “Why do I bother?”
Thief in my blood, salesman in my skin,
I could read a room fast and make sin make sense.
Had a plug, had a plan, had a girl I lied to,
had friends I used up, then cried when they slid through.
Truth is, I burnt what I touched,
played God with the bag, got stuck in the rush.
Every pill had a bill, every line had a lease,
every night that I won took a bite out of me.
HOOK
I went sunkken, sunkken,
room pitch black but the blunt still burning.
Thirty-three with my nerves still jumping,
old flame gone but the smoke keep curling.
I went missing, missing,
had a whole wave, now the phone quit ringing.
Used to feel God when the bassline hit me,
now I stare at the mic like, “What the fuck still in me?”
VERSE 2
Made some money, lost more than cash,
lost trust, lost sleep, lost names from my past.
Lost boys I called brothers to distance and pride,
lost parts of myself that I needed alive.
Now I’m mostly alone, homebody with ghosts,
same hoodie, no posts, ash on my clothes.
Everybody moved on, had kids, got clean,
I’m still here trying to decode old dreams.
I don’t want pity, I know what I did,
I was a slick little bastard when hunger got big.
Manipulator smile, educated with schemes,
turn a soft little lie to a full-time machine.
But that shit get heavy when the party go quiet,
when the bag don’t hug you and the drugs quit lying.
When the mirror look back like, “You proud of this, bro?”
and you can’t say yes, so you roll one more.
I’m back at zero, ain’t that a bitch?
Old fans gone, old page don’t hit.
Old songs sound young, old pictures look loud,
old me had fire, new me got clouds.
BRIDGE
I don’t know if I’m chosen,
I don’t know if I’m cooked.
I don’t know if they’ll listen,
I don’t know how I look.
I just know I got pain with a rhythm attached,
got a blacked-out past and a half-lit match.
Got a voice that cracks when the truth come through,
got nothing to sell but what I made it through.
FINAL HOOK
I went sunkken, sunkken,
room pitch black but the blunt still burning.
Thirty-three
izayah
