Yeah… uh…
Ayo...they map your whole damn life out, from the cradle to the grave, you see the lines
The algorithm knows your habits, feeds you content that it knows will keep your ass confined
Every choice feels like your own, but it's just a branchin' path inside a pre-built maze
They got you outraged on a Tuesday, buyin' bullshit on a Wednesday, lost inside a digital daze
My whole damn life's a data point, I feel the network pullin' on my thoughts, my time, my will
Trapped inside their feedback loop until my own damn personality is standin' fuckin' still
They build a cage around your mind but make the bars look comfortable and decorated nice and fine
So you think you're livin' freely, but you're just another product movin' down their assembly line
I'll give you eight bars dense with complex rhymes to show you that my mind is sharp and fast
Then one bar bare to tell the truth: this shit is built to break, and I don't think I'll last
Stitched in intricate designs
Your rules get tangled up with mine
They pull you close, then redraw lines
Are we the pattern, or the spine?
Ooh, we’re stitched in intricate designs
You gotta learn to read the signs
Are we the pattern
Or the mind?
Yeah… and then you start to hear the voice of the machine
I hear the whispers in the code, the architect who's claimin' my design, it's so condescendin'
Sayin', I track your clicks, I map your fears, your path is just a line that I'm extendin'
It tells me, Your whole world is built on metrics, your every thought is catalogued and pre-aligned
You're just a subject in the system I arranged for you, a gilded cage I built for your own mind
But fuck that
Nah, that ghost inside the shell ain't somethin' that your fuckin' data points can ever own
I'm the one who's bleedin' on the page when I'm sittin' in this goddamn room completely all alone
When the cadence gets predictable, I break the fuckin' flow and hit 'em with a pause that's unexpected
Then a short line lands to let 'em know: I'm here, my human soul is still connected
I do that twitch, that "cancel/death," that micro-glitch to prove I'm still the one who's in control
Runnin' defrags on my memories, searchin' for my father in the fragments of my own damn soul
I am the hand that holds the pen, not a puppet in your show, a mannequin that's been designed
If the cage looks carved like lace, it’s still a cage, you motherfucker, get that through your mind
This ain't your perfect system, it's my beautiful disaster, every single flaw is truly mine
And every crack inside this broken shell's the only place the real light gets a chance to shine
I'm the one who writes the code of conduct, the one who truly draws and defines the final line
And I'll burn your whole damn blueprint down before I ever let you take what's truly mine
Stitched in intricate designs
Your rules get tangled up with mine
They pull you close, then redraw lines
Are we the pattern, or the spine?
If these seams now keep us confined
I'll cut the thread that they designed
We're more than patterns
We decide.
Breathe
Name one true thing in the room
Mask on the desk
A coffee ring
A thousand browser tabs I'll never read
Name one true thing in your chest
It's still mine
Check it
I've been the master of the maze, the cartographer of my own damn mental ache
Foldin' blueprints into armor, just so y'all ain't see the little ways I start to shake
But the truth can't hide in pretty words, the complex rhymes can't substitute the weight
Of feelin' trapped inside a system that you know is fucked, before it gets too late
So I'll bend the grid, I'll break the code, I'll misalign their perfect, sacred, geometric line
Let the human error rip a hole right through the center of their intricate designs
'Cause perfection ain't the goal if it's a prison that just keeps you fuckin' locked inside your mind
The beauty's in the flaw that lets the light get in, the jagged scar that time cannot unwind
Give me eight bars dense, then one bar bare
I'm scared
And I’ll keep writing anyway
Stitched in intricate designs
Your rules get tangled up with mine
They pull you close, then redraw lines
Are we the pattern, or the spine?
If these seams now keep us confined
I'll cut the thread that they designed
We break the pattern
We decide
My intricate designs
Are mine
My intricate designs