Mirror Talking

Yo…

You ever talk to yourself, like—really talk to yourself?

Yeah, me neither… (heh)

Let’s get it.

I’m back in the basement, pen bleedin’ through pages,

Voices in my head screamin’ like they on stages,

Ain’t no therapist facin’ this kind of crazy,

Mom said “chase dreams,” now the dreams chase me.

Half-dead eyes, caffeine, and bad luck,

Turned pain into punchlines just to add up,

Every hater talk slick, but they fade quick,

I rhyme like I’m pissed and the mic owes rent.

Ripped jeans, no sleep, just beats and venom,

Rhymes sharper than a preacher’s denim,

Ego on a leash, yeah, barely contained,

But I spit like a storm when it rattles my brain.

I’m talkin’ to the mirror,

He’s starin’ right back—

Same face, different era,

Both lost in the track.

If the truth hurts, then let it attack,

Cuz I’m the ghost of my past and he’s never relaxed.

Yo, I been broke, bent, kicked, and mocked,

Still stood tall like the hands on the clock.

The system don’t love you, they just love your mistakes,

Turn your pain into memes and call it “high stakes.”

I’m the class clown turned underground prophet,

Told my demons “shut up,” now they drop topics,

Still got trauma, but I made it my armor,

Every bar’s therapy, the rhyme’s my karma.

My pen’s a weapon, confession, depression,

A lesson in aggression and lyrical obsession,

Still laughin’ through pain like it’s all a joke,

Cuz the second I stop, I might actually choke.

I’m talkin’ to the mirror,

He’s starin’ right back—

Same face, different era,

Both lost in the track.

If the truth hurts, then let it attack,

Cuz I’m the ghost of my past and he’s never relaxed.

Man, I’m shadowboxin’ with reflections and flaws,

Punchlines hit back with invisible claws,

My conscience on trial, I’m defendin’ the cause,

But my ego’s the judge and he loves applause.

Got critics in my head with opinions on repeat,

They tweet from the cheap seats, but can’t feel the heat,

I’ve been stabbed by friends, hugged by enemies,

Still standin’ tall, just fueled by memories.

I’m that nightmare dressed like a deep thought,

Smilin’ through the madness that the world forgot,

If the fire still burns in the back of my brain,

Then I’m drivin’ headfirst down memory lane.

(Whispered)

You still in there?

Yeah—just deeper than despair.

Old me’s gone, but he won’t disappear,

He just waits for the beat to reappear.

So when you hear this, don’t call it a comeback,

I never left, I just hid in my raps.

From the pain, the rage, the jokes, the doubt

I’m the same ol’ soul, just inside-out