[Verse] Post traumatic stress disorder makes me press record To record the most sporadic sets of morbid, lyrically blessed distorted Beautiful songs beyond the fortune, gorgeous stars that soar the orbits While my ass gets sore from sitting on the porch with torture horrorcoreish thoughts Thatll make me want to block Reality out of my head for a second and just sit down and jot Another untouchable plot, then I gotta go bust a flow hot I gotta move forward or sit around and rot in the field of healthy crops But the children of the corn, well theyre about to die, Malachi, so dont even try Keep that bubble by your side, and keep them kids away from my vicinity Im warning thee, the DNA suffers from PTSD Getting the stress off my chest is the past, Im remaining a pessimist, open the chest of me See that the D and the NA and the N9ne are making a mess of it Check the assessment, then you can see that the way that I fly in the altitude estimate Bringing the excellence, this the DNA Tru Lyricist, and Im not an impression Its just me and Tech, and we suffer from PTSD but were not even stressed, and they better respect this shit, bitch!
ptsd, dna, horrorcoreish, malachi, assessment