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Chris Chase’s "Ben Simmons" is a captivating introspective track that delves into the complexities of identity and self-awareness. The song takes its title from the Australian basketball player, known for his athletic prowess on the court, but in this case, serves as a metaphor for the swift rise and fall of the basketball star.
The mellow instrumentation combined with Chris Chase’s conversational flow creates a vulnerable atmosphere that welcomes listeners into a glance into the artist’s world. Through his introspection, Chris Chase peers inwards with his insecurities, paving the way for personal growth.
Pray that you leave me alone
Read me like Rosetta Stone
Sometimes live inside my head
Treat it like my second home
No I do not mean my conscious
Mental lapses cause collapses
Sent my absence to classes
Perhaps some men cannot fathom
People claim they hold you down but showing otherwise
Ingratiate you with my favor let you know inside
But you betrayed my trust, did love coincide?
You know that shit you did could never be dignified
And that’s what blows my mind, it can’t be justified
I reinforce my mind, and keep it fortified
I fear a dying mind especially to homicide
So nigga who am I? My nigga I don’t know
Maybe I been died like ten times, or maybe im just a hurt nigga restin the sidelines
Fuck bitches, get money that’s the typical modus operandi
The former’s on standby
Fuck it, maybe I’m jaded,
I spent my recent days in being lackadaisical
All the hoes tell, got em in hotels
They all bear good pussy, but none of it can’t dispel
How I’m feelin now, and it don’t sit well
48 hours of spinning on a carousel
(yeah yeah, yeah)
(yeah yeah, yeah)
(yeah yeah)
I ’m 23 wondering if I’m living in a cycle
I look at thee my idols, The people I admire
See we all have problems, yet we off better hiding
Backstage we crying, center stage cracking smiles
Tears of a clown, fears of looking down
Feet planted on the ground, below its hellbound
Every step I take are misdirected blunders
Sundered, drownin until I’m sunken
Nowadays I don’t really feel nothin
I neck the bottle of gin just to feel something
Staring at my debts it used to get me mad
My frustrations are rooted in ballpoints and pads
Every night I grow resentment towards penning Lyrics
Because either the shits trash or y'all won’t get it
This music shit's layup, I should shoot a high percentage
Couldn’t put my mind to it, feelin like I’m Ben Simmons
Couldn’t put my mind to it, feelin like I’m Ben Simmons
Couldn’t put my mind to it, feelin like I’m Ben Simmons
Couldn’t put my mind to it, feelin like I’m Ben Simmons
Couldn’t put my mind to it
The debut instrumental LP by Substantial; a wide-ranging album of upbeat, bass-heavy melodies to mellow, jazzy rhythms. Bandcamp New & Notable May 29, 2018
