Wrote this R&B/Hip-hop on a night where the screen was bright, but my chest felt dim.
You ever scroll through memes, drop a “hahaha” in the group chat, but deep down it’s like, nothing’s really landing? That’s where this track came from. Not tryna be deep, not tryna be sadboy™️, just being real. Life lately been feeling like it’s on 2x speed, but my soul stuck on buffer mode.
“Time move fast, but why / My heart feel lag still…”
That line kinda set the tone. It’s about dissociation in the digital age, feeling “present” but not really here, vibin’ through the motions. Snacks, bills, fake laughs, unread texts, canceled plans. You know the drill.
This ain’t a cry for help. It’s more like a timestamp. A screenshot of what it feels like to be emotionally online but spiritually on airplane mode.
Welcome to the loop.
Lyrics
Time move fast, but why
My heart feel lag still
I be here, but I’m
Gone as hell to feel real
Thinkin’ ’bout shit like
Why you always tryna hide
So I just vibe
Life’s just snakcs and bills, bills
Laugh in the chat, but I don’t feel much
“I’m chill,” I say, while my thoughts combust
Laugh in the chat, but I don’t feel much
“I’m chill,” I say, while my thoughts combust
Used to text fast, now I leave it on read
Not tryna flex, I just live in my head (my head)
Phone blowin’ up while I lie in my bed
Makin’ plans I’ll cancel, I’d rather play dead (play dead)
Shawty said “pull up,” I said “bet” (I said bet)
She post quotes ’bout healing, but still toxic (toxic)
We don’t date, we just do trauma-loop (trauma-loop)
Talkin’ late night like it’s therapy group
Time move fast, but why
My heart feel lag still
I be here, but I’m
Gone as hell to feel real
Thinkin’ ’bout shit like
Why you always tryna hide
So I just vibe
Life’s just snakcs and bills, bills
Laugh in the chat, but I don’t feel much (feel much)
“I’m chill,” I say, while my thoughts combust (thoughts combust)
Laugh in the chat, but I don’t feel much (feel much)
“I’m chill,” I say, while my thoughts combust
Forget my password, got reset again (‘gain)
Forget her birthday, now we just friends (just friends)
Shawty said, “damn, you got walls too high” (I)
I said, “nah, just lowkey scared to die” (to die)
She called me out while I laughed it off (laughed it off)
Then sent a playlist full of Cudi stuff (Cudi stuff, yeah)
She said, “you’re deep,” I said “nah just tired” (just tired)
Truth is, her presence got me rewired
Time move fast, but why
My heart feel lag still
I be here, but I’m
Gone as hell to feel real
Thinkin’ ’bout shit like
Why you always tryna hide
So I just vibe
Life’s just snakcs and bills, bills
Laugh in the chat, but I don’t feel much
“I’m chill,” I say, while my thoughts combust
Laugh in the chat, but I don’t feel much
“I’m chill,” I say, while my thoughts combust
Got tabs open, like a thousand or more (no more)
Laundry on the floor, keys by the door (by the door)
Talkin’ self-care, but I scroll till four (till four)
Then complain like I ain’t done this before
Time move fast, but why
My heart feel lag still
I be here, but I’m
Gone as hell to feel real
Thinkin’ ’bout shit like
Why you always tryna hide
So I just vibe
Life’s just snakcs and bills, bills
Time move fast, but why
My heart feel lag still (Laugh in the chat, but I don’t feel much)
I be here, but I’m
Gone as hell to feel real (“I’m chill,” I say, while my thoughts combust)
Thinkin’ ’bout shit like
Why you always tryna hide (Laugh in the chat, but I don’t feel much)
So I just vibe
Life’s just snakcs and bills, bills (“I’m chill,” I say, while my thoughts combust, yeah)
Annotation
“Time move fast, but why / My heart feel lag still”
Life be movin’ in fast-forward, notifications, deadlines, convos, content, non-stop. But inside? It’s like I’m stuck in slow-mo. This bar captures that emotional lag, that disconnect when the world keeps spinning and you’re doing all the “right” things, replying, showing up, but your heart just ain’t in sync. It’s that feeling of living on autopilot, going through the motions while your soul’s somewhere buffering. Not sadness, not even stress, just that quiet kind of emptiness where nothing feels real, even when everything looks fine.
“I be here, but I’m / Gone as hell to feel real”
This line hit like dissociation in a sentence. Physically, I’m in the room, eyes open, replying “lol” or “bet”, but mentally? I’m checked out. It’s that ghost mode you fall into when you’ve been running on low for too long. You show up, but nothing feels solid. Nothing feels real. Like you’re watching your own life from the outside, and even your own voice sound like background noise. It’s not about disappearing, it’s about being so drained, so scattered, that your presence don’t even register to yourself.
“Thinkin’ ’bout shit like / Why you always tryna hide”
This part’s that internal convo, the kind that hits when the world’s quiet and your brain gets loud. It’s me questioning people around me, but also lowkey questioning myself. Why we always frontin’? Why we always masking pain with jokes, stories, vibes? It’s not just about someone else tryna hide, it’s me projecting too. Cuz truth is, we all got walls. And sometimes, it’s easier to play cool than admit we’re breaking.
“So I just vibe / Life’s just snacks and bills, bills”
This is that give-up-but-make-it-chill moment. Like, I’ve asked the questions, tried to make sense of stuff, but at some point, I just stop fighting the chaos and coast. “Vibing” here ain’t about peace, it’s about survival mode in disguise. And “snacks and bills”? That’s the loop. Little highs from junk food or a scroll session, then back to the stress of paying rent, hustling, existing. It’s a line between apathy and acceptance, where life’s reduced to small pleasures and endless obligations, but I act like that’s enough.
“Laugh in the chat, but I don’t feel much / ‘I’m chill,’ I say, while my thoughts combust”
This bar’s all about that modern mask, dropping “hahaha” in the group chat while internally falling apart. It’s the performance of being okay. Saying “I’m chill” not because you are, but because it’s easier than explaining the storm inside. Meanwhile, your thoughts wildin’, spiraling, burning out like a fuse with no off switch. It’s quiet pain dressed up in casual energy. Nobody sees the combustion, cuz on the outside? You still typing fast and using the right emojis.
“Used to text fast, now I leave it on read / Not tryna flex, I just live in my head (my head)”
This bar’s about that shift from being socially active to mentally withdrawn. I used to be quick with replies, always tapped in, but now? Messages pile up, not ‘cause I’m tryna act cool, but because I’m stuck in my own headspace. It’s not ego, it’s exhaustion. Sometimes the world outside feels too loud, so I retreat inward, overthinking everything while conversations die in my inbox. It’s isolation disguised as “busy,” but really, I’m just trying to breathe in my own silence.
“Phone blowin’ up while I lie in my bed / Makin’ plans I’ll cancel, I’d rather play dead (play dead)”
This bar captures that burnout-paralysis vibe, when your phone won’t stop buzzing, but your body feels like concrete. The energy it takes to reply, to commit, to move. It just ain’t there. So yeah, I say “bet” to plans I know I won’t show up to. Not ‘cause I don’t care, but ‘cause I’m drained. It’s that passive self-sabotage where avoiding life feels easier than facing it. “Play dead” ain’t about giving up, it’s about how sometimes, staying still is the only thing that feels safe.
“Shawty said ‘pull up,’ I said ‘bet’ (I said bet) / She post quotes ’bout healing, but still toxic (toxic)”
This one’s about that messy in-between we all know too well. She hit me up, I play along, same loop, different day. The “bet” is automatic, even when I already know how it ends. Then there’s the irony: her feed full of deep healing quotes, self-love mantras, all that, but her energy in real life? Still messy, still chaotic. And truth is, I’m not judging, ’cause I’m right there with her, stuck in cycles we both pretend we’ve outgrown. It’s performative healing on the timeline, but unprocessed pain in the room.
“We don’t date, we just do trauma-loop (trauma-loop) / Talkin’ late night like it’s therapy group”
This bar’s for those connections that aren’t love, but feel too deep to call casual. We’re not building anything real, we’re just orbiting each other’s wounds. It’s not romance, it’s trauma bonding. Every late-night convo turns into a vent session, like we’re unpacking our baggage without actually trying to heal it. No clarity, no boundaries, just two hurt people using each other as temporary relief. And in a weird way, that chaos becomes comfort.
“Forget my password, got reset again (‘gain) / Forget her birthday, now we just friends (just friends)”
This bar plays with forgetfulness as more than just being absent-minded, it’s a symptom of being mentally maxed out. I can’t even remember basic stuff like passwords, let alone important dates like her birthday. And that small slip? It cost the connection. Now we “just friends,” but we both feel the space where something used to be. It’s a quiet kind of regret, knowing it wasn’t malice, just mental clutter, but it still hit like a silent loss.
“Shawty said, ‘damn, you got walls too high’ (I) / I said, ‘nah, just lowkey scared to die’ (to die)”
This bar peels the layers back. She thinks I’m guarded, emotionally unavailable, but it’s deeper than that. It’s not just about walls, it’s about fear. I ain’t tryna shut people out to be cold, I’m just overwhelmed by the weight of existence itself. That “scared to die” ain’t always literal, it’s the fear of vulnerability, of being hurt, of losing control. It’s easier to stay walled up than risk crumbling. So when she sees distance, what she’s really seeing is self-defense.
“She called me out while I laughed it off (laughed it off) / Then sent a playlist full of Cudi stuff (Cudi stuff, yeah)”
This one’s about that moment when someone sees through your deflective humor. She called me on my bullshit, and I did what I always do, laughed it off like it’s nothing. But she didn’t push, she just sent a Cudi playlist. That hit different. Cudi’s music is for the overthinkers, the ones battling quiet storms, so her sending that wasn’t just a vibe, it was her way of saying “I get it” without forcing the convo. Sometimes the deepest check-ins don’t come as words, they come as songs.
“She said, ‘you’re deep,’ I said ‘nah just tired’ (just tired) / Truth is, her presence got me rewired”
This bar’s that classic deflection, she sees something real in me, calls it “deep,” but I brush it off like it’s just exhaustion. That’s the go-to move when you’re not ready to unpack your own layers. But lowkey, she did shift something in me. Her presence hit different, like she didn’t just talk, she tuned in. And even though I downplay it, she got me rethinking stuff I buried. Sometimes it ain’t about romance, it’s about someone sparking a new frequency in you just by being real.
“Got tabs open, like a thousand or more (no more) / Laundry on the floor, keys by the door (by the door)”
This bar paints the chaos, digital and physical. A thousand tabs open ain’t just about the browser, it’s a metaphor for my mind. Thoughts everywhere, no closure, no clean exit. Mentally cluttered. And my space? Reflects that same energy. Clothes on the floor, keys dropped wherever. I’m functioning, but barely. It’s that quiet mess that builds when you’re overwhelmed but still trying to look like you got it together. A snapshot of burnout in both your screen and your room.
“Talkin’ self-care, but I scroll till four (till four) / Then complain like I ain’t done this before”
This bar calls out the cycle we all know too well, preaching self-care, but practicing self-sabotage. I say I need rest, boundaries, healing but end up doom-scrolling till 4AM, again. Then I wake up drained, act surprised, complain like it’s a new problem. It’s that self-awareness with no action, knowing better, but still stuck in the loop. It’s lowkey funny, highkey tragic. The contradiction between who I want to be and what I actually do.
Credits
Written by Tovan Alldino
Produced, Mixed, Mastered by Tovan
Marketed by Dimulti Music