Writing Exercise #24 - Chance the Rapper

Yeah
I'm a...

I'm a mess, mama
Gotta get some things off my chest, mama
I'd be lying if I said I did my best, mama
I got lies, I got grief, got regrets, mama
I'm a mess, mama

Take me back to Blockbuster
You would tell me find a movie where they not cussin'
Don't treat no black people like we not cousins
That shit went over my head like a crop duster
I'm still peeking at the world over countertops
On my tippy toes reaching for the mountain tops
And nowadays I'm up late 'cause I'm down a lot
The other day a girl told me I be out a lot
I been dealing with these women at a rapid pace
You know the lies gotta real bad aftertaste
I had to play both sides when the side switches
I had to try to hide bitches from my side bitches
I'm a mess, mama, room still a mess, mama
I made my bed but the sheets wasn't stretched, mama
When you left all I ever did was rest, mama
Was this chicken in the microwave? Yes, mama

I'm a mess, mama
Gotta get some things off my chest, mama
I'd be lying if I said I did my best, mama
I got lies, I got grief, got regrets, mama
I'm a mess, mama

Turn this car around, I don't know how to act
Out in Hollywood, I don't know how to act
I need a power nap
This life is a hour glass and I need a hour back
'Cause I don't know how it happened
I need a early dismissal
This is an emergency, very official
I'm walking through the hallways carrying tissue
Back then you'd be worried, now I'm worrying with you
Hold my hand 'cause these streets is wild
Hold my hand 'cause I'm still your child
Hold my hand 'cause it's hard to smile
And, mama, it's been that way for a while
I'm a-I'm a mess, I'm a mess, mama
I been dealing with some stress, I'm depressed, mama
And I wasn't a good host to my guests, mama
You said when you get back to be dressed, mama
Ok yes, ma

I'm a mess, mama
Gotta get some things off my chest, mama
I'd be lying if i said I did my best, mama
I got lies, I got grief, got regrets, mama
I'm a mess, mama