On Tick

Lyrics
[Intro] Ayy, check it Nerve, oi! [Verse 1] My girl does hot shit (Yeah), like strangle fans in the mosh pit (Nice) After rackin' grams like it's on tick (Uh) I got this, fuck with math like I'm Doc Frink (Yeah) So I clocked ya clique runnin' backwards: tock tick Every single stanza I drop is sick I got a Twitch where I shit on rappers every time they want to spit My lyrics toxic like my state of mind I take advice from mates who blaze the ice pipes and then escape with crimes (Argh) Take my time? Nah, rush this shit and make a mess Couldn't pay the rent so how the fuck I'm s'posed to pay respect? Or make amends, 'cause lately I been changin' tents Yellin' at a bunch of vacant heads like I raised the dead (Urgh) My shit's crack, son, I rep that and if I pressed wax It would turn ya [?] into a meth lab And leave ya scratchin' like ya sweat rack Every time I blessed raps, I give DJ Sam over the next tracks Get ya pen snapped, I'm on some other shit After this album settle down, have a couple kids (Yeah) Raise 'em up to be tough and fit And when I buster spit, son, I'll make them suckers do my fuckin' mix (Bitch) Do my cuts and shit then they can move out (Ha) I'm always losin' track of time when the crews round (Yeah) Had a cypher last night, pourin' few Stouts Skrub was eighteen back then, he's twenty-two now [Interlude] Those some nice shoes, kid What size are those shoes? They look about my size I think they'd look better on me actually [Verse 2] Oi I sell beats to myself for free They got the Kung Lao kicks that can melt ya teeth (Wapow) Your criticism isn't helpin' me Not on a mission for the wealth, 'cause my health is cheap (And uh, what else? Uh...) My grandmama drives a Skyline She doin' doeys while I'm sippin' on some fine wine Bumpin' Bowie in the back, 'cause his flow is fat Nah, he died, so I'm actin' like I know his tracks Work a full week but live like I'm unemployed (Yeah) Searched the whole street like, "Who took the dumpies? Oi" I'm a grumpy boy, I can't help it I'm half selfish and I'm sick of this disgustin' noise (Uh) Ya mum's a toy, I saw her chuckin' throwies She was wearin' bum bags and some Stussy clothing (Toy) Turned around like, "Yo, is this Bunsen, homie?" I proceed to back away (Fuck), something slowly I think someone owes me, 'cause I'm broke, son Spat forty bars and I haven't even woke up (Ha) I'm a joke, huh? I make the kids laugh And when they do I tell 'em, "Shut up, kiss arse" I spit fast, trust me this a slow track I'm gettin' lazy, 'cause everyone else is so wack Catch me with my notepad writin' shitty ghost raps Sellin' them to cats so in comparison I'm dope as 'Cause I'm dope as
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Credits
- Writers
- Nerve
- Sam Steensen