One song a week, 4 songs a month
200 tracks and nobody gives a fuck
The world keeps sleeping on a bed of my rhymes
In 50 years from now they'll be like he's ahead of his time
At least that's what I tell myself
It helps me get to sleep, but if they don't fuck it oh well
I'll be dead by then a rot decaying specimen
Long forgot to never hear my name again
No one I know exists to notice it
All memories have faded I've gone the way of some Coco shit
But I guess that's how it happens
You spend some time alive and the rest is in a casket
You return to the earth
With your bullshit little music that no one has ever heard
Covered in dirt full of piss and shit on top of it
I swear I am not bitter I think that should be obvious
I take the blame it's not your fault that you ignore me
I know you're just so busy and you wish you could support me
I also know you fuck around and waste your time on stupid shit
And yet it's just too much to ask for you to add me to the list
My songs be like 2 minute shit
You squandered an hour doing nothing up on the internet
And I know you got your show
You wouldn't ever think of missing, Buck you got to let that go
But do I tho? I'm so sick of the excuses
Why everybody's so busy they can't listen to my music
I mean I get it you don't really want to listen
My goal isn't to force you it's truly your decision
All I'm saying is it don't take a lot to play'em
So just keep it real admit it those excuses you can save'em
I'm not bitter, honest to god
You'll listen to my music when I'm dead, probly not