[Intro] Didn’t ask to move, did you? But you did. That shiver’s mine. Welcome in, kid. [Verse] I stalk through shadows with a purr and a grin, Tail flickin’ rhythms on the curve of your sin. Midnight slick, stitched tight to the wind, Got whispers in silk and a voice made of skin. Two tails twitchin’, but I walk like one, Eyes eclipse-bright, black eclipsin' the sun. I don’t haunt—I inherit the fun, Possess the drum, then bury the run. You feel that flick in your fibula bone? That ain’t your nerves—it’s me on the phone. Callin’ your limbs like they owe me a tone, Now you steppin’ in sync like a metronome clone. Your boss in a tie? He dancin’ in grime, Was payin’ his taxes—now poppin’ in time. Got a toe in the grave and a grin in the grime, Movin’ like death was the start of his prime. I sip from screams like saké at dawn, Crack a neck just to make it a swan. You blink? I’m gone. You sweat? I’m spawn. I’m the split in the spell when the veil gets drawn. Feel that twitch in the pit of your wrist? That’s a beat I bit when the moon got kissed. It’s bliss and abyss with a twist in the list— I write your moves like a plagiarist. You thought this club was free of curse? Nah. The floor’s alive and I wrote the verse. Your body’s mine, and worse— You like it. One wink and your morals disperse. I see the breath stutter—see the jaw slack, Your thoughts try to run but your spine talk back. I lace your gait with a feline tact, And your heartbeat? Trapped in a hi-hat track. That girl in heels? She’s three days cold, But damn if her twerk ain't solid gold. I gave her a second act, unsold, Now she breakin’ her back like a myth retold. You think you lead? You think you play? I’m slidin’ through sinew, I mold your sway. Your soul’s still rent-controlled where it lay— But your shadow already signed the lease today. I got lungs in jars that still can hum, Feet with no pulse still bangin’ the drum. A suit, a nurse, a child with gum— Dancin’ like death never made them numb. Your head tilt odd? That’s cue, not choice. Your laugh came wrong? That’s my voice. You fell in love with the echo’s poise— But it’s me you serve when you drown the noise. I slip through cracks in the chorus line, Puppeteer grief with a sniff of wine. Every dead beat’s just a shrine, And I? I’m the saint of the spine. Now your chest goes tight—but you smile, sweet. It’s warm in the grave when the bass repeat. You're not alive, but the groove complete— And your heartbeat ...that’s just obsolete. So take my hand, soft as dusk, Step with the dead, forget the husk. You got nine lives, and none to trust— But I got claws And dance... Is just.
