Metarap

[Verse 1: Gripp]
I don't wanna rap about rap no more or ask to be passed the torch
From whatever backpacker you're clapping for
'Cos after the last batch of songs I rattled off
I realized I don't give a rat's ass if you're happy or
You ask for more, toss it in the basket or you pass it off
To half your friends and play it back again because the tracks are raw
I ain't fucking with the bull like out of work matadors
More focused than your kid doping on Ritalin and Adderall
Existence is like a prison with padded walls
That opens out on a cliff with a dramatic fall
And no I'm not crazy enough to make the jump
But I could recognize I'm only taking up space. So, fuck. Let's break it up
'Cos life is too repetitive and I'm ahead of the curve
Metacognition: I express it in words
And I express that I express it in words. Ad infinitum
Adding synonyms, spinning them in until it's absurd

[Verse 2: Gripp]
No I don't feel inspired to rap; I feel required to rap
It's a mother-fucking virus, in fact
I don't have much to say, and it's a tiring act
Pliers latched onto my mind prying it back
But I guess art is more cathartic than a high on the crack
And otherwise I'd probably just be shy and hide in the back
And I'm far to insecure to be resigning to that
So I write to be exciting and just try to attract
Attention, pining for that. Need to be seen and be heard
As maybe more than just the consequence of previous Earths
Cursing the deterministic sickness that's stitched in the world's existence
And fixed it to sit me here speaking this verse
I'm a leaf on the curb. I'm at the whim of the wind
No direction is correct; I just extend and I bend
Now I'm staring down the devil's most sinful of grins
'til he flips open his Moleskine to pencil me in

[Verse 3: Gripp]
Rap amounts to a plague. When I step down from the stage
Unless mouths are agape, I'm feeling burnt out and enraged. I'm a clown when I
Lay it down for them, a court jester with more pressure
'Til head-bowed and ashamed I step out of this game
I'll be a beast then