Joker

 

give me the freedom to write
Give me the vision to see my demons and beat 'em at night
Give me the pen and the pad, give me a couple of stans
Gave you a percentage but I'm taking home all of the bag
Give me definitive and unlimited amounts of people loving me
And call upon everybody who came before and tell them to come
And inject me with whatever they're smoking man, I'm sick!

But I think you know that already
You call me evil but how would you know it
Unless you live it already?
You think you're better right?
Because nobodies seen what you've done in the dark
But if I put your life in this light
You would crumble and fight to survive or die
But bitch I fucking knew that already

I ain't special
But I specialize in making you feel especially stupid
For judging a human, while you sit at home
And the whole world judge can't watch what you doing
Or follow and hate all your movements
I ain't complaining but I know the people who do it
Are sicker than me, and I'm sick enough I just might lose it

Yeah, you think you know me 'cause you double tap on a picture
I hate the fact that you judge me, it's driving me crazy
So when it's too deep I say, "Fuck it" and drown in some liquor
I write these verses in blood, I got chapters
For days 'cause my heart is my biblical scripture
And I ain't a prophet but I can predict
That you'll never catch happiness till you're the pitcher

So please continue to laugh
If I'm a clown, you a circus act
When I rap it's in a surgeons mask
'Cause I place every syllable in a deliverable fashion
From first to last
Then cut back with a message that's hidden in melody
Making them think and ask
If I was the one on the table pushing, giving birth to rap

Maybe it was me
Maybe you like all my music but don't really actually love me
Maybe you just want a picture
Maybe you just want to see me 'cause you need some money
Maybe you think that I'm happy
Maybe you think in reality liking my post is repairing a hole
When it's actually shaking and cutting the soul right out of me

I think I'm sick
I feel a rush of emotion whenever I post up a pic
I got a problem
I'm in the studio rapping while this girl is sucking my dick
She cut a hole in my heart now I fill it with women
Who love me 'cause they think I'm rich
And if I be honest I just told a bitch that I care
But I really do not give a shit

So what's your excuse, what helps you sleep?
You leave a negative comment
Not knowing that what you sow, you will reap
I bet you smile when you post, thinking you're hurting me
But you see the way the brain works
You become what you speak

I need peace, but y'all can't offer that
I held my ground, I didn't sell my soul
I said fuck the fame, y'all can't take that offer back
Fuck a shelf, you can't take me off the rack
All the fame is not worth a heart attack
You're insane, you're in pain, I can tell by what you're saying

But my bad, I forgot you were fragile
I forgot someone who doesn't even know me told you I'm an asshole
I forgot that I'm a villain
I forgot that I've always spread positivity, but you think I didn't
I forgot that hatred stems from people who hate their own existence
I forgot I'm better off alone
I forgot I care for everyone's happiness, but forget about my own
I forget I spend every waking second on my phone-

Come join my circus, I'm recruiting
I'm taking everyone who passes judgement
Bitch, that's including everyone who thinks it's so amusing
To put me down while I'm pursuing
The keyboard warriors that live online
Behind a screen that's just an illusion
Come, come, come, come join my circus

You fucking pricks
I'll fuck you till you love me, then pay you to do some tricks
I don't need a doctor, I need a bag of nails and bricks
To lay down on the floor
So if you fail to land a flip you can feel what I felt
When you tried to come sink my ship

Let me explain, you all help me financially gain
But I spend my money on mental health books
And read them just to control all my pain
I don't wear clothes, but bought this chain
And just like you this chain is fake
I wear it to distract you from the blatant sadness
Written on my fucking face

What'd you expect?
Did you think I was immune to what you were saying
And didn't see all of the disrespect?
Do you think I'm not human, have no feelings?
Or maybe you think I'm fucking weak and now I'm pleading
Maybe you think I'm just too good
And that I'm fucking cheating?

Or maybe, just maybe
You're blind and the hate inside your heart
Clouds your eyes and your mind and your ears when I rhyme
Even though we all know I'm one of the best of all time (all time)
Or maybe you're just a fucking bitch and I can't-

Stop comparing me to people who are not in my league
Stop saying I don't believe in God just because you can't read
Stop making fake profiles so you can spam my feed
I'm not alone, I know there's millions out there just like me

QUE ES LA FELICDAD

La felicidad es una hipótesis demasiado ingenua para considerarla en serio. No se trata más que de una percepción de bienestar pasajero, un consuelo provisional de la existencia, tan corto en su duración como difícil en su reminiscencia, pues la memoria arraiga con más facilidad, con mayor firmeza y durante muchísimo más tiempo los instantes dolorosos que los placenteros. Conseguirla y conservarla, por así decirlo, es tan complicado como establecer el número exacto de necedades que rondan a cada segundo por nuestras cabezas.

Algunos han querido alcanzarla entregándose en exceso a todo tipo de placeres, hasta que terminan hastiándose de ellos y odiándose a sí mismos. Otros han intentado refrenar sus instintos y alejarse de todas las pasiones existentes, hasta que acaban por no aguantar ni el peso de su propio cuerpo y se suicidan por puro desespero. Hay quienes buscan el ansiado sosiego en la santa sede de la ebriedad, y lo que les dura la jinchera les dura la felicidad. Muchos creen que acumulando dinero y bienes la obtendrán, pero no bien descubren que hay por lo menos un centenar de individuos más ricos que ellos, los invade una inquietud tan grande que de ahí en más no tendrán un solo momento de descanso. No pocos están convencidos de que saliendo a aventurar por el mundo con una mochila al hombro hallarán el sitio ideal para gozar de una vida plena y satisfactoria, y así envejecen paseando el hambre de pueblucho en pueblucho, ignorando que apenas emprendieron su viaje lo primero que empacaron fue la infelicidad que los determinó a partir. Uno que otro misántropo la busca haciendo dieta de los hombres y sus sucias costumbres, y a tal efecto se interna en lo profundo de una montaña junto con sus hijas, a quienes con el paso del tiempo hará madres –y abuelas, si el tiempo y las fuerzas se lo permiten–. Demasiados filósofos algo líricos sostienen que en la contemplación desinteresada de la naturaleza y en la elevación de espíritu se la puede encontrar. ¿A qué naturaleza se referirán? Hace mucho tiempo que aquel refugio se convirtió en un medio más para satisfacer las necesidades del bípedo implume, que ha metido sus narices avarientas en cuanto rincón del mundo subsiste todavía. Incluso en el lugar más apartado de la tierra se encuentra uno hoy a alguien tratando de venderle un trapero. La propia naturaleza, estimados vejetes ociosos, ha sido pervertida. Y ustedes echados en una cama pensando en cosas inoficiosas.

Aunque nos neguemos a aceptarlo, todos padecemos el síndrome de Agamenón: después de alcanzar un fin, o incluso la gloria, se nos viene encima otra desgracia o un nuevo motivo de preocupación. De ahí que cueste tanto trabajo imaginarse que aún existan optimistas entre nosotros. Estos individuos que vienen siendo al mundo lo que son los cerdos a sus cocheras, que no se cansan de vivir día a día en la repugnancia absoluta y que si acaso vieran abierta la puerta de la marranera harían como los puercos: no se les ocurriría siquiera poner una pezuña afuera. De hecho, el caribajito es un poco más digno: se queda en su inmundicia porque entiende que allí tiene la comida asegurada y sabe que en otro lado adelantará el fatal instante de convertirse en alimento de otro. En cambio el optimista, aun cuando esté obligado a aguantar hambre todos los días, conserva la esperanza de que su situación cambiará en algún momento. Para un optimista el desenlace trágico no existe, por más que la realidad lo contradiga. Un optimista no sabe ni en qué mundo vive.

El edificio de la felicidad se desploma con más prontitud de lo que tarda en construirse, dado que sus cimientos están asentados sobre la arena. Debido a eso el uso de alcohol y narcóticos, tanto psicoactivos como morales, es cada vez más grande, ya que cualquier cosa que sirva para alargar ese breve instante de satisfacción representa un alivio a la innumerable cantidad de penas, frustraciones y desdichas que nos afligen a diario.

Bajo estas circunstancias, el insensato que al borde del sepulcro declara que llevó una vida feliz en todos sus aspectos y que volvería a repetirla si tuviera oportunidad de hacerlo es, además de un farsante empedernido, un desquiciado que lo mínimo que puede hacer es librarnos de su presencia muriéndose lo más pronto posible. Seguro a un tipo así no lo quiere vivo ni su propia familia, que debe estar esperando ansiosa su deceso para ver si dejó más bienes que deudas.

Ni por costumbre, ni por amor: la pareja dura por respeto

Respetar a tu pareja implica aceptarla y admirarla por lo que es. No tratar de cambiarla ni moldearla a tu conveniencia.

Se ha dicho que a fin de que el matrimonio dure para siempre y sea prosperado, varón y mujer deben volar juntos, pero nunca atados.

Dear God

I just want to make this clear
I am a believer
But sometimes it gets hard
My name is Charlie Brown

Dear God
There's a lot of questions that I have about the past
And I don't want hear it from a human you made
So you're the last Person that I'm ever gonna ask
Tell me what's real, tell me what's fake
Why is everything about you a debate?
What's the point of love?
Every time I've showed it I was broken
And it's forced me just to only wanna hate

Why's there only one you but multiple religions?
Why does every conversation end in a division?
Why does everybody want to tell us how to live but they
Won't listen to the same damn message that they giving?
Tell me how to feel, tell me what's wrong
I tried to call, pick up the phone
I'm on my own
Everybody says you're coming back

Then man why the hell's it taking so long?
Why do I hurt? Why is there pain?
Why does everything good always have to change?
Why does everybody try to profit off another man's
Work then destroy it just for monetary gain?
Tell me are you black or are you white?
I don't even really care I just really want to know what's right
They been saying one thing but I've been looking in the book

And it seems like they've been lying for my whole damn life
Tell me where I'm going, is it heaven or hell?
I just hope this message greats you well
I had a dream that I was walking with the devil
Don't remember how it feels but I swear that I remember the smell
Looked me right into my eyes and told me everything
I wanted could be mine if I gave up and decided to sell
But I said I'd rather die then get mine now
I'm here no fear one man with a story to tell

Dear God
Where were you when I needed it?
When I fucked up and repeated it?
When they set the bar and I exceeded it?
My life is like a book that they've been judging by a
Cover but have never took the time to fucking read the shit
I remember telling you my goals and my dreams but you

Didn't even answer so I guess you didn't believe in it
I remember sitting with a gun to my head trying to ask
You for some help but I guess you didn't believe in it!
I don't want religion I need that spirituality
I don't want a church I need people to call a family
I don't wanna tell my sins to another sinner just

Because he's got a robe and he went to some academy
I don't wanna read it in a book, I wanna hear it from you
Don't wanna learn it in a school because they're hiding the truth
Don't wanna talk about it to another fucking human being
And that's only reason that I even stepped in this booth

Dear God
How do I take this darkness and turn it into light?
How do believe in a concept where I speak
To a man I've never seen with my own two eyes?
How do I know that religion wasn't made just to separate the world
And create a whole disguise just to keep us in these chains while
The rich get richer and the poor pray to you and perpetuate a lie?
How do I know this ain't some big joke?

How can I have faith when there is no hope?
How the hell does one man have 100 billion dollars
And we still have people on the street that are broke?
There's a lot of things I wanna talk about and get off my chest
I can't sleep 'cause the devil won't let me rest
I used to know a fucking pastor in a church and I can
Still hear the screams of the kids he would fucking molest

Dear God
Do you hear me?
I'm supposed to fear you but you ain't said
Shit so maybe it's you who actually fears me?
I don't know the answer I just want to see it clearly
So many lies there's a 1000 different theories
All I want to know is who really made religion
Because I know it wasn't you but don't nobody believes me

No more lies, no more death
Bring back King, bring back X
Please dear God let their souls rest
Protect who's left and watch their steps
Dear God
I don't want to have to ask you again
I just hope that you know that I'm still a believer so I'll end this all
By saying Amen