Double Entendre - Hate the Player

"Shout out to the dead," "to the dead," I digress
If there was only real, I think there'd be no one left
It's a war zone in my head, all my enemies have met
I know I ain't coming back if I ever go on meds
I've no respect for games—fuck the players and the devs
No one takes responsibility, complacent with "whatevs"
He thinks we all sin, so I don't know what to expect
But you gon' take the blame if I don't get what I request
There's no respect in death without a fight
If you bled without a bite, I bet you probably left without your life
And their memory too good to ever forget about the hype, they think that's being smart
But they can't control their set amount of spite
I won't play a game even when I am the favorite
If the underlying scheme's to justify a deep hatred
When the odds are stacked against your opposition
You poison your optimism
Went and lost your vision—calling that a win is contradiction
You lost your way, had a lot to say
They taught you how to talk in a larger way
And that's not really what you want, but hey
They think they're smart taking advantage of your weak short game
But really you're playing the long game
No, you're wrong for playing
See the stadium was built to symbolize seeing things our way
And to normalize the idea of taking part in games
Think you're not partial
But honestly, you lost the race the minute you lacked the wit to see
The arena's concave, there's your ticket to admit defeat
We make it look like a frivolous activity for an off-day
Chess is always a win that you have to give to me
No luck, the only relevant strength's what you have physically
You're positioned to act timidly
I did that intentionally
No chance, 'cause you haven't the littlest affinity
Such behavior is rancid to me, or was initially
Mad clinically
Calm base as long as your living is handed to me
I was down to Earth, damn look what the ground did to me
So at least I adjusted
I can do something horrible, anything repugnant
That's north of the fifth degree
Almost listlessly
Then shrug it off, and ignore the repellency
Reject the disgusting nature of what I just did
Blame that on "the industry"
I learned if they don't charge me, they'll accost me
Later when it's costly
We speak "properly," 'cause we don't identify as property
I digress
If there was only real, I think there'd be no one left
It's a war zone in my head, all my enemies have met
I know I ain't coming back if I ever go on meds
I've no respect for games—fuck the players and the devs
No one takes responsibility, complacent with "whatevs"
He thinks we all sin, so I don't know what to expect
But you gon' take the blame if I don't get what I request
If I don't get what I deserve then we gon' have a problem
You resent my passion, and the fact that I take action on it
You can think that, I mean it's natural
Hope after all those rash thoughts pass
That they don't all come back to haunt you
I get that it's tragic, although
You know I'm an act you never had to follow
You found a hard one
I used to want to act so I could be in center stage
Way before I learned what it meant to "play"
I've never played unless it was right into their hand
Developed insights and shared them
They called me "entitled" and "arrogant"—whatever, I didn't care then
We had "trust" so I didn't like to disparage them
I was always taught that my "opponent" would "do the same to me"
That's a convenient way to justify being cruel blatantly
And a depressing way to never know who makes peace
Or feeling pride in knowing that we root for the same team
"I'm much more than a good speech"
I'm still much less than I could be
If everything makes sense, then God had better be a rookie
I'm apprehensive with where he put me
"Shout out to the dead," "to the dead," I digress
If there was only real, I think there'd be no one left
It's a war zone in my head, all my enemies have met
I know I ain't coming back if I ever go on meds
Fuck the players and the devs

Written by:
Holden Whipple

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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