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rural internet – the crucifixion of saint anger كلمات اغاني

[intro: doin’ fine]
b_tch i_

[verse: doin’ fine]
f_ck
i’m tired of rappin’ ’bout trauma
every time that i did it i did it ’cause i had to, not ’cause i wanna
praying my [?]
my mom asking me to hear it, that sh_t scare me to my core, yeah
everyone want me to be a wh0re, yeah
when’s the last time you got paid to get your f_cking knees on the floor, yeah?
huh, f_ck music, i’m s_x workin’
and my b_tch, she a s_x worker
f_cked him, got his legs hurtin’
give the fake b_tches [?]
yeah, i’m tired of rappin’ ’bout trauma
think i just gave him a daughter, ’cause i just hit it raw, yeah
trust that he knows his body, plan b in the drawers
but sh_t i got paranoia, i still hit it raw though
mе and you could be like stevе lacy in this b_tch in the back of the mall
yeah b_tch i’m a mall goth, with the checkerboards yeah
hope that this sh_t is iconic ’cause [?] b_tch
why the f_ck i make this record?
i make this sh_t for char and luca ’cause my voice coming second, i put myself against some real struggle
got me pathetic, ’cause i don’t wanna talk about pain
but i’m a tranny so it’s expected
you will never tire of me crying about s_xual confessions
how by fifteen i knew what it was to be used as a weapon
how i hate being pretty
’cause they didn’t need to pressure me into sending anything explicit
they just used my selfies
i feel naked everywhere, you see my face is an extension
he put me on the tv, everything has to be censored
softcore face, dsls, and triple x’s
think the image of that tribute, it burned into my retinas
and think about when you hear me rapping this you repeating the transgressions
don’t make art, i make p_rn
this is god i handed [?]
b_tch i get real f_cked up in this one
mascara runnin’, cryin’, beggin’
for another [?] friday like a f_cking skype session
[?]
’cause i know it sounds so painful to express all of that pain
but the truth is it’s too natural, it’s in my dna
autopilot, a couple of minutes and my guts are on display
it’s beautiful and raw, it’s shocking what i create
well it’s f_cking easy, i f_cking hate it
it’s f_cking lame
saying so but [?] ’cause it’s all fame
if you fell in love with a stripper then i’ll rain on your parade
’cause most of you c_nts hear these lyrics about dismay
and get your rocks off, but get soft if the feeling’s changed
from look how abused that i was, to how it f_cks with me today
don’t claim to support victims if symptoms make you turn away
i’m talking about the ugly ones that get your support systems erased
i’m talking about the ones that you call out from standing on your crate
i’m talking about the ones in which i know you’re secretly engaged
creating anger across the culture while you’re passed through as a saint

[intro]
yuh, yuh, yuh, b_tch
you are watching a master at work
yuh, yuh
b_tch i feel like ceres fauna
i’m tired of rappin’ ’bout trauma, yuh

[verse 1: doin’ fine]
so you know that when you hear me talk about it being weaponized
but when hear this f_g’s a freak you don’t think that’s incentivized?
painted as buffalo bill, but you don’t look a second time
i don’t care if you’re a queer, i love all the queers that go f_ck and die
think about pentecostal preachers, wanna bleed you
to them we’re all freaks, pete b_ttigieg is a freak too
dave rubin is a freak too, [?] is a freak too
yo how the f_ck you think that they gon’ f_cking treat you?
how you different but don’t change the things you learned when they deceived you
how you have a change of heart, but forget it has to beat too
how you eat your heart out, but forget that they gon’ eat you
’cause goddammit i’m a freak, and like it or not you’re a freak too
let’s talk motivation and the consequences that that heat do
got enough to sue me next, shocked when they hit the street too
i think people k!ll themselves because of what you f_cking preach to
tell me to expect no violence, cosplayin’ as police do?
so it’s beautiful and raw, and shocking what i create
’cause i’m a freak, i f_cked the newtown alleys more than my domain
but that just make the newtown alleys a lot more like my domain
my elements chugging p_ss behind the 1989 party
[verse 2: doin’ fine]
i rap about the trauma, how i’m wrapped up in these chains
[?] on demand like it’s a tape
i don’t care if you can connect, come work on happiness today
wallowin’ in sadness just got me closer to the grave
and i don’t want tranny media to be synonymous with pain
i say that like i didn’t listen to the record we just made
i’m belittling my peers, what the f_ck i’m saying?
how dare i when i don’t gotta live from pay to pay
i don’t got money like that, but at least i got a place to stay
and a meal on the plate, and no depression in my brain
[?] but b_tch you can’t stop the rain
i ain’t lived like char or luca, so why the f_ck i complain?
add on to that the fact that we made this record about rage
but that’s some sh_t that i been at a way earlier age
anger issues my whole childhood, i drove my friends away
had to [?] as a kid, thinking about death every other day
i don’t get angry anymore, but when the music sounds this way
it’s like it’s beckoning me to scream along until my voice fades
can you make a record called saint anger when your anger’s in the grave?
and all your peers got sh_t to be angry about, you see it every day
and you hear it on repeat, mixing the vocals and the bass
when the anger’s so authentic, in comparison i’m fake
and all this sad sh_t make me tired, it’s too easy to relate
but what other option do i have? i don’t got no sh_t to say
that’s why i’m speaking all this bullsh_t like i’m savage at the bank
should’ve bought that versace, but it feels misplaced to claim
i’m in a trap of my own expression, with no one else to blame
i feel self entitled spitting this, taking up sp_ce
i’m not angry, i’m not a saint
i’m just tired of your gaze
i’m just tired of your deaf ears when i communicate
i ain’t even say i made this song to charlotte yet
truthfully, i might spit this and throw my laptop in the coogee beach
i might f_ck around and never speak again, get tattoos on me
pain catchin’ thirty three languages that have true to me
après ce chanson je se dosserie or [?] de vie
i don’t wanna tour america you yanks f_cking spook me
we as artists recognizes counters across all the movies
holding up pepsi cans shouting at you, “please come sue me”
and the blunts whisper to you, just itching you to shoot me
’cause i don’t think i can live without the mangoes in my smoothies
you can miss me around religion, it’s the same thing as truth
and i don’t wear the trueys ’cause i’m true blue, so b_tch i wear [?]
[outro: doin’ fine’]
motherf_cker
i’m not angry, i’m not a saint
i’m just tired of your gaze

- rural internet

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