Blood in the Ink

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Sauce Is Matisse

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But something's amiss, what doesn't fit? 
Something's a disconnect, something's a fib 
Something is nothing like what it should spin 
What if I'm cut and there's blood in the ink? 

Slit wrists, written in red, but I'll never let this sin get into my head 
I been stitching this set like a vision of death, and I've given my breath to this animus, bent 
On becoming the one thing that can't be suppressed...I've been blessed 
I'm a written religion, I'm sick and I live in contempt and regret, so sever my head 
God dammit...so I might never know the brighter side 
Even though I write these rhymes like iv's drip my mind right to the 
Page out my veins, pained in a crisis with my life in lines 
This is the only way I know how to stifle all the strife inside 
I spit the sickest raps after picking brittle scabs 
And bloodletting a flood, every pump begets a track 
So f*ck the fickle "facts" from these punks pitching trash 
Cuz my blood is in like every lyric sung, it's a wrap 

I've invested myself in my music too deep through beats 
Over which I've wrote and I've spewed speech, looseleaf 
And I don't ever want a new creed 
My chemical components are as dope as what you shoot, g 
That heroin, I'm heroic in the flow I'm barking 
Arsenic in my arteries, I'm motioning to notes in harming 
Harmonies, they're part of me, I'm coping with the dark in me 
Arguably my hardened heathen heart is charred from scarring heat (YES) 
Clinically depressed with a brilliant mind 
Cuz I'm filled with rhymes and I'm about to steal your shine 
Run, I've killed ill lines like a billion times 
And I can put you outta ya misery, euthanize your time signature
I'm Saucie sizzle, I'll drizzle in the beer you're drinking 
Trickle in toxins sick from my awesome lyricism 
I twist up a tourniquet, pick my perfect pocket pen and script it 
I'm Inking this quill with vividness, thrills, and mixing venom with this blood 

I'm buried in the underground, scary sinners, other sounds 
Ain't no listens when I drop shit, hot scripts isn't what it's about 
But something's amiss, what doesn't fit? Something's a disconnect, something's a fib 
Something is nothing like what it should spin, what if I'm cut and there's blood in the ink? 
Uh...So what if I've been cut up 
So What if I've been pummeled to a bloody pulp, what up? 
What if all the fucked up rubbish that I come up 
With isn't what you thought it was and blood is what it comes from? 
So every seething speechless me screaming 
Is teeming with feed for leeches, keep bleeding 
And bleating on beats, the GOAT? Who's he? Fleeting
This scene is a demon, Tisse is deep breathing

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