letra de on tick - nerve (aus)
on tick lyrics
[intro]
ayy, check it
nerve, oi!
[verse 1]
my girl does hot sh-t (yeah), like strangle fans in the mosh pit (nice)
after rackin’ grams like it’s on tick (uh)
i got this, f-ck 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 sh-t 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 sh-t and make a mess
couldn’t pay the rent so how the f-ck 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 sh-t’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 sh-t
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 f-ckin’ mix (b-tch)
do my cuts and sh-t 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 t–th (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 (f-ck), 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 -rs-”
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’ sh-tty ghost raps
sellin’ them to cats so in comparison i’m dope as
’cause i’m dope as
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