Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Nightbreed, artist - Jehst. Date of issue: 20.04.2009
Song language: English
Nightbreed |
| Ricochet Klashnekoff |
| Night time, night breed, night survival |
| Keep your head low |
| On the front line trenches, cmon |
| Night time vultures hidden in the dark of the shadows |
| Eyes red, night vision sharper than arrows |
| Tools in my hand cause I’m parrow |
| Prang cause I’ve seen many man get hanged from the gallows |
| Out there man’ll teef the wheels off your barrow |
| Deep things happen when people think shallow |
| Jail birds trapped in a cell doing a sparrow |
| Raggo, enough to put a spark in ya marrow |
| Street thieves dip in a wallet fi tek a man’s dough |
| Plans so nippy you won’t see where their hands go |
| Man toast liquor and drink it over man’s ghost |
| Jankrows |
| Perching right on top of the lampposts |
| Tramps hold |
| Paper bags with a Tennants |
| Drunk breddas stumbling home totally redders |
| Foreign beggars |
| Seek change, heavily preggers |
| Fellas getting wet up for their Avirex leathers |
| As I roam in the street |
| My arms and my shoulders are weak |
| And pain flows through the soles of my feet |
| And a place called home isn’t sweet |
| Coppers watch you like Jones on the beat |
| With cold stares |
| Full of frozen deceit |
| I wonder what they hope to achieve |
| By grabbing me up by coat and my sleeve |
| People chat my name quoting my speech |
| My mind flows so when I dream |
| And I can hear myself moan in my sleep |
| Cult followers |
| Showing no tolerance for foreigners |
| They’re lost in the lies |
| And sick pride of the swastika |
| Hard cases |
| Racist scar faces |
| Filled with dark hatred |
| Looking for arms |
| Blatant |
| Half my spars blaze |
| My marge is half sane |
| My fathers last name |
| Was bastard pass blame |
| To ease my hearts pain |
| I chant and start praying |
| To calm the fast flames |
| That mark the last days |
| In the dead pool of deep black sirens |
| Penetrate the silence |
| Blinding lights shining |
| Dilate the iris |
| Drivers shot hybrids |
| And clock mileage |
| Deep in the dawn |
| Light heavy on the eyelids |
| Bevy by my side, I write this |
| Pennies on my mind, I might switch |
| High like I’m probably psychic |
| Twisting up quality thai stick |
| Ital visions of the dominant mind trick |
| Eyes on the hourglass |
| Watching the time slip |
| Poverty strikes quick |
| The Nike tick |
| Got everyone in a tight grip |
| A clenched fist |
| Defenseless |
| Tense kids turn henchmen to deathwish |
| I bleach it |
| And when my freinds exit my bedsit I buil' a next spliff |
| Mute News 24 to escape the madness |
| And wake up travelling on snakes and ladders |
| Grappling with knaves and blaggers |
| Bandits with blades and daggers |
| Taggers, Jack-the-lads getting blazed and bladdered |
| Same as standard |
| Vagrants with organ damage |
| Worn and ragged |
| Their clothes all torn and tattered |
| It’s the war zone |
| It’s reporters are causing panic |
| Phone taps crackle with distortion to static |
| White collar hackers up |
| Tapping on laptops |
| Good cops |
| Bad cops |
| Bankrupt gang boss |
| Smashing the padlocks on his stash box |
| Contraband cash crops |
| And crooks that cook crack rocks |
| Drunks gather at the back of kebab shops to shot beer |
| Knock-off brand names |
| And hot gear |
| Who’s gonna tell the truth to the youths? |
| Will it be you? |
| Will it be me? |
| Or will you leave it to the schools |
| To instill twisted rules? |
| Maybe your confused |
| Perspective of views |
| But all I see |
| Is bare youths killing youths for the love of the loot |
| It’s like Beirut |
| Mini Berettas and vendettas |
| Part time dappers |
| Ayia Napa slappers tryin’a catch us |
| But can’t trap us |
| Little schemers |
| Attracted to cash and chaps with chapparitas |
| Sending chaps to come and cap you in your Beemers |
| Friends turned demons |
| Trapped behind bars for twelve seasons |
| While his baby-mother cries freedom |
| Dreaming of the day she can flee from the region |
| And begin again like Eden |
| Escape Babylon and leave behind the demons |
| Dodgy dealings |
| Crack fanatics fienin' |
| Fed’s screwing |
| They’re brewing |
| Can’t keep tabs on what I’m doing |
| Take ten taxi cabs just to keep them off track |
| Lone wolf on my jacks, roam road like a ridgeback |
| Shabby chap, I walk aggy with a hunchback |
| Feeling insecure with my thoughts impure |
| This city’s sick like disease and it can’t be cured |
| Top dogs say the word and have you killed from abroad |
| I bring fire for you fassies and battyman Barrymore’s |
| No remorse |
| Bareback, I ride rythm like horse |
| Strike, I attack your source like Delta Force |
| Many say I’m too coarse |
| But of course |
| Life’s harsh |
| Living in a manor with mans with no regards |
| And no regrets |
| Top shotters and skets |
| As times advance past I slowly regress |
| Exhale stress to get tings off my chest |
| Put my heart into the rhyme for the heads |
| Nuff said |
| Nuff dead |
| Nuff bled |
| Nuff fled |
| The few that remained |
| Their brain’s stained with the bloodshed |
| I play the edge |
| And stay nippy like 'peds |
| And blaze ziggy on the regs |
| Knowing to myself that it’s keeping me suppressed (so suppressed!) |
| Plus |
| My dad blazed 'til his lungs were deprived of breath |
| Yo I walk the same path |
| Following his footsteps |
| Trapped in the quest for the physical flesh |
| I digest food for thought from the biblical text |
| Because all Jah Jah bless, may no pussy test |
| Klashnekoff |
| Kyza |
| And Jehst |