On a day like today, not sure that I have a lot to say
From the moment I woke up, an alarm going off in my brain
My relationship to art is strange, twisted and strained
It means so much to me, that it makes me afraid
What if I'm never good enough, what if it leaves me
What if I'm trying too hard and this is supposed to be easy
What if I'm not trying hard enough wasting my best years completely
It's hard to be motivated, I keep feeling defeated
I called my mom on the phone
told her that these waves had me sea sick
My mom is a badass, she told me “fuck art, you don't need it”
My emotional ups and downs are akin to a seesaw
My hearts in my throat and my belly's s in free fall
I drank three cups of coffee spent the day typing manic
My rhymes pissed, confused, and smelling of panic
I want to be authentic, but that can't just mean reactive
I've been doing this for so long, and still feel so new at it

And I'm not sure if it's enough, but it's all I've got
all that I've got, all I've got, all I've got
My pen and my rhymes, my heart and my time's
All I've got, all I've got, all I've got

I'm unsure where emcees are supposed to be confident
I'm supposed to be boasting, but have trouble taking compliments
Used to think I could make money at this,
maybe I lack even common sense
I don't know why I do it, all I seen is the consequence
Well - never wanted a job, because I knew I'd rather do this shit
When I'm not doing it I think about, when I leave it I miss it
But now I'm getting older afraid of always being paid minimum wage
What if my family gets sick, or I want my own home someday
What if I'm too poor to travel, too tired to write?
I'll be as strong as I need to, but that might kill me inside
Something you love isn't supposed to weigh you down
Stephen King said “life isn't a support system for art,
it's the other way around”
My life's a fucking mess, my art's barely getting off the ground
I'm usually sitting on my hands while my head spins around
I don't focus well, anxiety's the only other member of my band
Be calm my squeaking heart, be still my shaking hands

And I don't know if it's enough, but it's all I've got
all that I've got, all I've got, all I've got
My pen and my mind, my love and these rhymes
All I've got, all I've got, all I've got

Then it's back on the same bus back to work to get paid
Either frustrated or isolated on any given day
Writing verse after verse, before ripping up the page
I can't seem to pick it up, but I can't put it away
Every stage is temporary, as the cycle rolls
But history seems nothing if not recyclable
Bad habits, form bad habitats, or is it the other way around?
Either way I'm dismayed and will likely just stay here and lay around
Thinking maybe it's a puzzle it'll click in once I've got the order
Basting in unspecified feelings of cosmic horror
Basing my next move off of what I've done before
Feeling dunce without a corner, Hagrid without Dumbledore
Stumble core rap music, now everyone put your heads in the sand
Then mumble it back to me while we stare confused at our own hands
I'm not trying to play this up, I feel done with it, don't you?
Now let's huddle together for warmth, while we come unglued

And I don't know if it's enough, but it's all I've got
All that I've got, all I've got, all I've got
My family, my mind, my love and my spine
All I've got, all I've got, all I've got
And I don't know if it's enough, but it's all I've got
All that I've got, all I've got, all I've got
My family, my mind, my love and my spine
All I've got, all I've got, all I've got