God Complex (Mob Mentality)

I was born with the storm in my skull, call it psychic wrath,

A ticking bomb, emotionless 'til you cross my path.

No father, no savior, just a blank stare and rage,

Till I tore down reality and stepped off the stage.

Reagan? Yeah, I made him. A puppet, a fraud—

So I wiped myself clean, left the throne of a god.

Restarted the world, made his story seem just,

Then blessed his bald clone with a one-punch thrust.

I ain’t no hero, I’m the fuckin’ architect,

Snapped my fingers, and that timeline got wrecked.

Rewrote existence like it’s child's play—

Gave a mortal godhood, then walked away.

You think you’re strong, bitch? I bend laws of fate.

You punch hard, I blink and erase the slate.

You pray to gods, I ghosted mine,

Wrote the script, left no design.

Power? I’m the source, the spark, the static,

Psychic surge, fuckin’ goddamn magic.

Mob ain't gone, I'm the glitch in the light—

Gave y'all Saitama, then vanished from sight.

No fame, no cape, no fuckin’ flair,

Just school shoes crunchin' through psychic air.

Kept my power buried 'til that scale got tipped,

Then I melted whole blocks with my feelings ripped.

100 percent? Nah, that’s just the lock,

I’m beyond that meter, I reprogrammed the clock.

I watched Caped Baldy punch gods like flies,

That was me with the strings, pulling truth from lies.

Erase myself from memory, just like a glitch—

Left Reagan strong so life wouldn't bitch.

You can keep your capes, your scouters, your beams—

I’m the nightmare fuel of your bravest dreams.

Mob Psycho? Nah, bitch—I’m Mob Messiah,

Lit the world with thought and baptized it in fire.

You pray to gods, I ghosted mine,

Wrote the script, left no design.

Power? I’m the source, the spark, the static,

Psychic surge, fuckin’ goddamn magic.

Mob ain't gone, I'm the glitch in the light—

Gave y'all Saitama, then vanished from sight.

I never wanted praise, I just needed peace,

But this world begged chaos and wouldn’t cease.

So I wrote your god, made him plain and bored—

Just so Reagan could live with a blade not stored.

No titles, no followers, no fuckin' fame,

Just me in the void—rewriting the game.

One punch? That’s my shield, my gift, my debt.

Mob the God, now don't you fuckin' forget.