night walker - nervexx lyrics
[intro]
jash!
vexx
[pre*chorus]
i think a murder spree in order for my personal retort
cut copy information travels, that boy p*ssy, out of order
trauma settles, inner presence, it done made you someone else
but no excuse for all your ignorance, can you save you from my h*ll
[chorus]
i’m boutta put 10 shots in yo’ back pocket and you’ll bounce off of the floor
smoke some bad chronic, you’ll pass on me, i think you asked for more
don’t dial no 9*1*1, ’cause ya’ body ain’t move ’til the sun turn red
and held account*a*ble for all that sh*t that you just did
[verse 1]
my brother turned me a to a bitter soul who’s spun up in the head
i’ve have to live with burnin’ images that haunt my love with dread
i can’t compete with charismatics, simply ’cause i ain’t built
to have a ragin’ narcism paired with psychopathic guilt
so f*ck, you ride for me? ’cause all the time we had
was lived with flawless execution, not a fate gone bad?
done givin’ up conflict for their sake, if i want that war, better know i’d take it
put somebody in my place to f*ck my b*tch so i would die alone
[verse 2]
i see you pivot like the snakin’ f*cker that you are
one day you love ’em, then you switch up screaming “holy ego!”
background music ’til i’m p*ssed off and act out, a fact don’t lose
’til it’s charmed and it’s sat down, a pact we made, yeah, self to self
i been backstabbed once, i don’t plan on the next round
oh yeah, i don’t know how you move so manifold
you spread yo’ wings wit’ a locked in scope on things you want
but couldn’t hold, manipulate with l*sted dreams
you feed on what they give to ya’
if rooted, i am jealousy, but tell your girl who you have breached
[chorus]
i’m boutta put 10 shots in yo’ back pocket and you’ll bounce off of the floor
smoke some bad chronic, you’ll pass on me, i think you asked for more
don’t dial no 9*1*1, ’cause ya’ body ain’t move ’til the sun turn red
and held account*a*ble for all that sh*t that you just did
i’m boutta put 10 shots in yo’ back pocket and you’ll bounce off of the floor
smoke some bad chronic, you’ll pass on me, i think you asked for more
don’t dial no 9*1*1, ’cause ya’ body ain’t move ’til the sun turn red
and held account*a*ble for all that sh*t that you just did
[outro]
jash!
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