Lyrics: Eric Whitney Ghoste
Music: Eric Whitney Ghoste
Ask me if I give a **** about a clique, ayy
Ask me if I give a **** about a diss, yuh
Ask me if I give a **** about fame, yuh
Recently I just don't give a **** about a thing, yuh
[Chorus]
Ayy, ask me if I give a **** about a diss, ayy
Ask me if I give a **** about a clique, yuh
Ask me if I give a **** about fame, yuh
Recently I just don't give a **** about a thing, yuh
[Verse]
Ayy, I just decided by the grace of the god Poseidon
That you're so dead to me, I dug a hole for you to lie in
I'm sick and disownin' all the moments and the key components
That led me to follow hollow promises from empty monads
It's eleven degrees and I can see my breath, so I know I'm breathin'
But I got no pulse, I swear to Thelema, my heart ain't beating
I better get back to the black hole sun
Leavin' my gun, I don't need it for this one
I'm findin' the silver linin' and I'm minin' for hope
Tryna keep my wrists closed
You are toxic
My blood, your lips
You are toxic
My blood, your lips
I'm 'bout to pass and I know I'm not (Know I'm not)
Not comin' back 'til I resurrect (I resurrect)
Scatter me, so I don't ever come back
I was alone and I never wanna go back
[Chorus]
Ayy, ask me if I give a **** about a diss, ayy
Ask me if I give a **** about a clique, yuh
Ask me if I give a **** about fame, yuh
Recently I just don't give a **** about a thing, yuh, ayy
Ask me if I give a **** about a diss, ayy
Ask me if I give a **** about a clique, yuh
Ask me if I give a **** about fame, yuh
Recently I just don't give a **** about a thing, yuh