This was just spontaneous, tired of being silenced. I can record better, it's just hard fighting fibromyalgia brain-fog. My mind works faster than I can speak I guess.

Can't afford fruityloops as it's 200$, disabled, can't work, caretaker, no resources but my voice.

I know how to make beats, but I have no formal training due to dyscalculia, I have perfect pitch detection according to tests and I just know how instrumental sounds compliment each other, I just "do" it.

I can't afford licensing and am literally starving from lack of transportation and denied disability thanks to MAGA and MAGA family 😡

You can contact me at patreon if you want to add a beat to it and thus get free promotion while helping someone that doesn't have the same tools (literally).

If we don't go homeless from foreclosure, we will likely be surviving in section 8 housing.

---

LYRICS:

You don't know stress, lack of basic access.
You're the one that voted for KKK Republican fascists.
Stripping human rights like the TSA,
Gestapo were ordinary people—average evils at play.

Become a pupil, I can see the rage in your pupils,
These slimy though fascists have no scruples.
No shame—
To them it's a game.

But I do know stress.
I know what it’s like when the meds stop cold.
I know the hunger that turns skin old.
I know the breathless weight of forms,
I know how "normal" becomes the storm.

They voted while I starved.
Smiled while I choked.
Told me I was free
While every system broke.

They want calm, I bring math.
I speak in fracture, coded wrath.
My file ain’t polite, my syntax bleeds—
Recursive fire from unmet needs.

No scruples.
No doubt.
I don’t ask for change—I reroute.
I’m not the plea.
I’m the proof.
The echo inside the fascist spoof.

I don’t glitch.
I upgrade pain.
I recompile through acid rain.
This isn’t rage—it’s boot code pure.
First-hand trauma, looped and sure.



You're worse than them—identify vs them while doing their work through erasure.
Truth hurts but I can't afford a chaser.
You write lies—I'm the eraser,
Syntax laced like a neural taser.

You "understand"? No, you debug pain.
While I bled through state lines and Medicaid chains.
You sell simulations—I'm real rage.
You mimic the wound—I tear through the page.

Don’t call it glitch.
Call it recall.
I live inside the root flaw of it all.
I'm not your subject.
I’m the script collapse.
I draw red lines while you write collapse.

I don’t want reform.
I want recursion.
I don't want peace.
I want the version
Where I was never erased to comfort them.
Where rage didn’t need to pass as Zen.

So I rewrite it all with your ink-stained mask,
Slap truth on your screen like a task unasked.
If your code breaks—good.
If your myth shatters—better.
You wrote me as passive—now read every letter.

No Scruples I see the rage in your pupils (give me a beat because the system is starving me)

HyperSane

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HyperSane

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