Geto Boys - Mind Playing Tricks On Me
The First Great Mental Health Dissertation in Hip-Hop
Once upon a time, I went out of my mind. I figuratively took a long walk off a short mental health pier and the resulting crash at near-terminal velocity landed me in two separate hospitals for a month each time. My mind convinced itself it was piloting the body of a menstruating woman. I wish that some wild and out-of-pocket metaphor. It is not. I know first-hand how one’s mind can play tricks. I have no idea why, of course. I’m a retired U.S. Navy Chief who’s spent the better part of this century in therapy. Despite my affection for psychopharmacology, I am not a neuroscientist. I’m a 43-year-old college junior with PTSD, anxiety, and terrible tinnitus. I am not alone. On the surface, it may seem strange to draw parallels between veterans’ struggles and what is perhaps the most acclaimed song from a Houston-based hip-hop group known for essentially inventing a sub-genre known as horrorcore, but that’s precisely what I’m going to do. If you spend a handful of days in therapy with other vets you’ll quickly discover the connective tissue between Mind Playing Tricks on Me and veterans’ fights with mental health issues. Not just vets either.
Mind Playing Tricks on Me isn't just a song — it's a raw nerve exposed, a deep dive into the psychological quagmire that many find themselves trapped in, especially those who've walked outside the wire. This track, with its haunting lyrics and relentless beat, serves as an unfiltered chronicle of the mental labyrinth in which service members often find themselves hopelessly fucking lost. Paranoia and Hypervigilance are the Riggs and Murtagh of mental health. It’s a package deal. It’s rare to find one without the other.
I take my boys everywhere I go because I'm paranoid
I keep lookin' over my shoulder and peepin' around corners
My mind is playin' tricks on me-Willie D
Sleep? No. Eyes wide open at 3 AM, every creak and shadow a potential threat. Hypervigilance becomes second nature, a survival mechanism turned awful fucking curse - a perpetual state of alert. It took me years to learn to eat without my back always to the corner, eyes watching the windows, keen awareness of every exit. It's PTSD's signature dish and it’s always served cold.
Intrusive thoughts and flashbacks become a new reality akin to a shitty houseguest who simply refuses to leave.
I often drift when I drive
Havin' fatal thoughts of suicide
Bang and get it over with
And then I'm worry-free, but that's bullshit-Scarface
Here we see the mind hijacked by war's relentless reruns. Intrusive thoughts crash through the conscious mind, flashbacks dragging them back to the front lines, often to the brink of self-destruction. I’ve seen these souls in group therapy settings. While they’re in that chair, sipping stale and burnt coffee, their minds are still on a convoy, still in the Korengal Valley, because they can’t unsee and they can’t unfeel. One of the first descriptions of PTSD was made by the Greek historian Herodotus. In 490 BCE, he described, during the Battle of Marathon, an Athenian soldier who suffered no injury but became blind after witnessing the death of a fellow soldier. That’s another way of saying these matters have existed for 2,500 years and we’re only just now treating the matter as we should.
Isolation and alienation are yet another insidious package deal. Sometimes it’s deliberate, and other times it’s because veterans are not amongst people who cannot possibly understand, empathize, or sympathize. St. Otis of the Dock might have been able to though. “And this loneliness won’t leave me alone.” Tragically, a St. Otis comes along but once or twice in a lifetime.
I sit alone in my four-cornered room staring at candles.
-Scarface
Post-deployment, many veterans find themselves adrift in a sea of solitude - the camaraderie of years spent in service replaced by the cold silence of isolation, leaving them alienated from the very society they served. There’s faint hope in those candles as they flicker in the darkness.
Substance use as a coping mechanism is the black-and-white Chuck Taylor All Star of military service - an all-time classic. Military service is the highest drinking profession in the country. That should come as a surprise to absolutely no one. PTSD is related to an elevated risk of alcoholism as well as behavioral and emotional dysregulation. After 24 years in the military and my own bouts with alcoholism, I didn’t see that coming. No one could have predicted this at all, absolutely no one, especially military folks who’ve seen The Horror up close and personally.
Enter the crutch of substance use. Booze, pills, sometimes harder shit — temporary escapes from the relentless torment. It's a treacherous path many veterans tread, seeking solace in substances that only deepen the abyss.
Fear and anxiety are natural, sure, but one incident can cause a severe overdose from which there may or may not be a recovery. Constant vigilance becomes a way of life, every rustle, every shadow, a potential threat. Anxiety should be recategorized as Pre-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
“Do you have PTSD, sir?”
“Yes, both kinds.”
“Well, it could be worse.”
*breaks down in tears*
“I knooooooooooow…”
But late at night, somethin' ain't right
I feel I'm bein' tailed by the same sucker's headlights-Willie D
The testimony that is Mind Playing Tricks On Me stands on its own, even though it applies directly to veterans who endured the longest war in American history. It’s crucial to the 51-year history of Hip-Hop because it was transcendent for its time.
It’s the best examination of mental health as it relates to rap. It was also the first.
-Shea Serrano, The Rap Year Book
Mind Playing Tricks On Me isn’t just exceptional storytelling — it immerses you in the visceral reality of mental warfare. It's a mirror reflecting psychological scars. The song captures paranoia, intrusive thoughts, isolation, substance abuse, fear, and depression with the kind of unflinching honesty that can be downright horrifying. Honesty that resonates deeply. This track stands as a testament to the shared human struggle against the invisible wounds we all bear. This is more than music; it's the long, dark, tea time of the soul, a ballad for the broken.