Success Syndrome

The biggest downside of being an overachiever is when you underachieve

Damn, I had to get into Kean University just to find out that shit?

Congratulations, you made it to the New York Times bestselling list

That was a huge goal of mine once

I began writing with thoughts of becoming published

How long could I remain there is the question I want the answer to

You’re a platinum selling rapper, shit I better be

after all that time I’ve spent getting better at MCing

Poetry was the foundation of my rapid-fast delivery

You’re one of the best actors out there

I once took up drama back in high school, was great at it

Cuz’ of my aptitude for performing, it took

little to no effort in memorizing a script

I think of them lines as if they were poems of mine

You’re a hero in your hometown

Newark built Khali, now it’s time for Khali to return the debt

I got people who won’t ever have the chances dat’ I’ve taken

I must represent by giving back to my community

You are internationally recognized

Well, I done seen this coming back in my open mic scene days

It all started in the Mocha Lounge on Academy,

I could never forget such a pivotal moment

You’re no longer being harassed by poverty

Simply put, it’s just a state of mind

Now you see why most of us never make it out, right?

You got your license, which was a long time coming

I got tired of fucking walking

You got yourself a neat whip, look at my drip

With Makaveli blastin’ through the speakers as I zoom down I-78

You got yourself a gorgeous house, no longer gotta live under restraint

Can spark the herb right inside of my living room if I wanted to

Watch the plot twist

Your anxiety has worsened

There are on-lookers on each block that I turn,

can never catch a break around here

I gotta act how you want me 2???

Get that camera out of my face before you

find it somewhere that’s painful

The nights become lonelier each time you put another plaque on the wall

or you do another successful performance

I’m feelin’ like a monkey inside of a circus,

instead of chugging bananas and ripping farts

It’s freestyling to the crowd and signing autographs until my hands get weary

Enough for them to begin cramping up

I’m drained yet I continue to put myself through the torture “for the fans”

These women you’re boning only want the coins,

they don’t give a shit about your loyalty

I kept my shit in my pants ever since, I’m now practicing abstinence

Family and friends done switched up on you

now that you got some money

Motherfuckers quick to tell me how much I’ve changed

But be the same ones holding their hands out

once that check comes in the mail as if they were homeless

People adore you

They’re willin’ to get your face tattooed

onto their bodies, listen to Stan whenever you get a chance ta’

People despise you

Then they adore you again, duplicitous ass fanbase

If you gone be fake like that, hate me for good then

People want what you have

Niggas smiling in my face, but I smell the envy on them

like a pizza inside of the oven

They want to take it from you

Even if they gotta murder your mother for it

Welcome to Success Syndrome—

This isn’t for the weak, my brother.