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futility.

by pizza boy.

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1.
[Verse 1] I've been struggling for quite a while... Wrote too many songs for ghosts, the wrong approach I think I need a dance, a biscuit, and a throng of hoes I gotta lie to you... until I have the longest nose, which I'll poke into the rap business, because being a real boy ain't shit when Geppetto has control, my pedal mash the flo', ho I been had drive, been had heart, been had mind, blind fuck You think I have a Guy Fawkes mask on, must be anonymous Me and my whole crew: The Legion of Forgotten Fucks In the face of gimmicky competition, a finicky audience, and Kevin Gates nom-nom-nom-nom-nomming butt Too referential? Too late? Touché, but you ignore material that ain't So I'm either Walter Mitty, White, or Whitman Whatever gets me listeners and attention "Confused brown kid, drowned in his influence" Probable internet review, but there's ten students somewhere in the world who's lives I saved brooding over beats I stole, so I don't know You tell me my worth, you tell me why I'm hurt And I'll keep tearing at my soul [Hook] This is the Struggleverse, I am the cartographer I can show you 'round this place, I don't know the way outta hurr' This is the Struggleverse, I am the cartographer I know secret passageways, I don't know the way outta hurr' [Verse 2] Bitch, you guessed it You was right, I'm an amorphous blob, trying to fit an archetype My skin is dark light, I'm the rap Mark Price You want me in a category; I find that rather boring The dark matter's pouring out of my skin holes Heart inkier than pen holes, rap's a pinhole Forward slash thread; I'm half-dead, and it's hard-fitting in so I made my own knitting tools Fuck your itty bitty rules, I'm The Itsy Bitsy Spider Fuck whoever’s rain it is, this is my hood, I'm Daniel Tiger, minus the cardigan, add glasses and a scowl But keep my pants off cause I'm extremely well-endowed You frown at the rap trope, but seeing is believing If I was a Crip, I'd kill myself promptly upon bleeding That was commentary on the concept of loyalty I ride for my friends, play them if you're ignoring me
2.
death march. 04:45
[Verse 1] Accumulate raps; turn them into records that’ll pretty girls to your pecker, plus, money to your bank account so you can start making out a check or money order to your folks for all of that bad weather Your last effort left you in a ditch that you woke up in next to a platform for the hype train You wanna drive yourself to fame, but you don’t have a car, so now you have to buy a ticket Ribbit; this is really none of my business I just want an iced tea with a lemon In Target for jeans, and the women in the aisle keep staring Yes, lady, I’m thriftin’ But while he’s shoppin’, watch ‘em He gon’ make it from a bus stop to that Datsun He got that ambition, idiot, but avert your eyes Keep your ideals close, find your perfect guy, ‘cause I’m... searching for the perfect imperfection Hurt myself deadlifting the weight of the task I need a sight for sore arms I need you to like this moron [Hook] Yes, I do have last words... (HARUM) No, I don’t have the password... (HARUM) Yes, I do think I’m absurd... (HARUM) No, I didn’t read the chapter... (HARUM) Yes, I haven’t gotten past her... (HARUM) No, I do think I attack her... (HARUM) Yes, I don’t own a Mac, sir... (HARUM) No, this is a Hewlett-Packard... (HARUM) But what’s it matter, dead folk don’t chatter, please shut up when you’re talking to me... Pitter patter, where I’m going, ain’t no ladder, so I doubt you’re really walking with me... [Verse 2] A dark aura I do not have time to sit here and watch Nick and Norah Got an infinite playlist of everyone’s two cents Different file formats, bit rates, click bait, no matter which way I look Can’t remember how many sick days I took My memory’s faulty now... using RAM is costly now Tossing out Tinder, switching in Snagajob It’s time to move up from a Padawan I maxed out the stats on the vagabond class I wanna be a sorcerer; Rich Homie Quan Chi I promise I will never stop going into these portals to Earthrrealm, and analyzing code to find out what spawned me I am Al Simmons, in Hell’s Kitchen, pulling TV dinners out of the oven without mittens I’m dorm room hardened, too proud to beg your pardon Unabashedly spitting nerd jargon My professors all think I’m retarded, I’m fine with it As long as I get signed with this Fragile ego, this isn’t a male thing Regardless, the gender system keeps failing No, I don’t want a pronoun Those in a P.O.P. continue to hold down all of us It’s a glorified pimp squad And that makes us hoes with a bent gauge We don’t know the pressure we can exert Ignoring what heals, only seeing what hurts That must be why I still think about her jerking him off; a handjob to Señor FatCock I can’t stop I must win, so the only thing grinding harder than me is my motherfucking laptop [Hook]
3.
[Verse 1] I'm an impostor... of what, I don't know I feel like a monster... evil I won't show because I call myself being cute to academics and macadamias They both probably think I'm a bozo Can't escape the word "pretentious" I heard it mentioned, and I scoffed I hate when words live on a buzz... all the sobering ones end up lost I think about the word "discouraged", and I'm reminded this is a half-court shot in the dark, and I'm blinded It's more like full-court, but fools sport optimism that they did not earn This cynicism got learned 98% of my discography is nocturnes Tried to cremate hopelessness, it would not burn I can't just usher in a new attitude Too much I have to prove, though I assume you won't care... [Hook] I still taste echoes... They said they are dead, though... [Verse 2] I should marry that industrial dancer from the Vines, and we can do that dance to this song a hundred times What am I but a bitter ex and an idiot Hideous; [my] ballskin looks like Darth Sidious Really, this is sidestepping the hurt for the silliness In 2012, my shoulder was the chilliest But now, due to global warming, I am sporting a sun-stained smile for these employers I am courting Now my appeals to pathos are boring And nobody will honestly believe I'm in mourning I rebounded like Alonzo, just to get called fake by a Gonzo journalist I'm murderous Still refusing to be smart with my purchases Every song is me shooting darts at worthlessness, tryina' tranquilize the fucking thing Never hit the bullseye, so this song is a cruddy thing But... [Hook]
4.
[Verse 1] California burrito and a smile, being idle, ignoring idols, flying high I might buy a Cruiserweight Title replica I'm above writing raps in Helvetica I made a typeface; I grew a language I destroyed your galaxy, cause in it, Pokémon was real, Erika dealt grass, Brock ran a brothel in Pewter Etcetera I think it's time I hold the pair I grew I'm not scared of you, I built a lair for truth Quite frankly, the Klaus Baudelaire of the booth, which is actually a bedroom for two I caught the dorm room blues, but today is a good day All the symptoms are in sedation Frustrations tucked away like grades when you know that C is gonna make your dad peeved, so... [Hook] Bury that depression in your bookbag Appear good even when your soul looks bad Be brave in the face of uncertainty Behave in public and show courtesy Build a moat, and fill that thang' with Haterade Address worry and save for peace for later days We gon' build sum'n nice today We gon' build sum'n nice today [Verse 2] The faint of heart cry in mason jars, and I sip coolly Cruelly, I took candy from a baby, and replaced it with a mic to encourage the youth to speak out about their plight Reverse psychology; orchestrated rebellion Angel-fy the hellions, hell-ify the Melvins Smash televisions, kick start revolutions This is not a drill, it's Chiraq's solution I feel like the arbiter of the universe I'ma have to ask haters to disperse, this is a "no flex without representation" zone Tell Rich Gang pay us what they owe I want racks of brain cells and a brick of Blow Pops How many licks for respect on O-Block? Roll that Tootsie for a scholar Holler if you heard me on a song and gained a new power [Hook]
5.
void. 02:14
[Verse] Ridin’ down the interstate on a bus, mental health on a crutch, subjects I don’t wanna touch ... Nonetheless, they get molested; fondled, disrespected; entered without protection I... need to figure out why I keep doing this Public model citizen; To myself? I’m a hooligan... I've been vandalized Spray-painting obscenities by this candlelight I’m a Gremlin, sittin' in the shower until I feel schizophrenic Mind multiplies, splits up, then dies And I wonder why, like the scary movie trope didn't warn me a million times But then again, it's all futile Cry into your bowl of Lime Chicken ramen noodles... You know, cause that's the nastiest flavor Then dump that bowl on all your sassiest haters... Suburbia consists of taco dinner kits and makeshift basketball courts owned by the white kid with the bigger sis... that's mega cute, but she’s scared of your nigger lips What’s the point of this? You could find one, but settle on the pointlessness You’ve been here before, it’s all familiar Standing on the edge of tomorrow Eat, fap, repeat, then go to sleep in the bed of your sorrow...
6.
[Verse 1] I’ll end up forgotten I’ll be okay with that, and I’ll eat candied cotton Don’t even like it, but I’m living, and I don’t like that either, so why take a breather? Neither you or I have an answer to repeated procedure I have a pet Porygon, and it keeps giving me seizures I won't get rid of it, though It’s more like cigarette smoke Not bad, just a byproduct of it... I sorta love it [Hook] Windows up, doors locked, on the hottest day Dozing off into the feelings that I lock away Content to be poorly represented Content that you ignore me, never mentioned, never listened to, I'm feeling you, I get it I'm a plaza of scattered intention I'd rather have a platter than smidgens Is that too much to ask for? Am I too much of something you did not ask for? [Verse 2] I miss Club River Run and the pseudo-independence Listening to Hellfyre Club when I was emotionally winded Excess spendin’... on fast food Roommate-induced bad moods... It’s hard not to romanticize There was peace in not having my naps analyzed Back at my parents' house, starin’ out a window It was all good just a month ago, I’m uncomfortable From homework to home-cooked meatloaf Both are equally poor, but one could be ignored My goodness, I took for granted how I soared through those quaint dorms like a demented, male Storm What a maelstrom; I was blue like Selsun Frantically trying to prepare for when Cell comes And now he’s here... I coulda' been someone

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credits

released October 29, 2014

written by: pizza boy.

recorded at:
- Club River Run Apartment Homes, San Diego, CA
- a bedroom on Smokehouse Way, Belleville, IL

mixed by: pizza boy.

production by:
- Big K.R.I.T. (track 4)
- jhad francis. (bonus track)
- Kyle Justice (tracks 1 & 5)
- Lyle Horowitz (track 3)
- mathbonus (track 2)

artwork by: pizza boy.

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pizza boy. Peoria, Illinois

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