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TIP TOE GOT NO SOUL artwork

TIP TOE GOT NO SOUL Explicit contentE

dropbear

· 1:35 · 32 plays · v2.2

About

HARD CORE

Lyrics

Title: Itty Bitty Killa

Genres: Horrorcore nursery rhyme × Freakbeat × Liquid DnB × Mythic Ballad Motifs: Cocoa & vanilla, stitched sin, thrill-seeking lovers, ritual carnage, mythic devotion

Hook (Original, Polished)

Wanna be my itty bitty killa? Come on, walk with me and I’ll show you a thrilla. When it comes to the sick stuff, there’s no realer— What we got is pure, there’s no filler. You be my cocoa and I’ll be your vanilla. Wanna be my itty bitty killa? Come walk with me and I’ll show you a thrilla.

Verse 1: Candy-Coated Carnage

We ride in silence, stitched in sin, Sweet like syrup, but the madness within. You hold the blade, I hold the grin— We count the bodies like poker chips: win. No filler, no filter, just thrill in the spill, You’re my itty bitty killa, I’m your sugar pill. Cocoa and vanilla, we swirl in the dark, Our love’s a weapon, our kiss leaves a mark.

Verse 2: Thrill of the Pact

We don’t flinch when the thunder rolls, We carve our names in the reaper’s scroll. You light the match, I pour the gas— We burn the past and toast the ash. No rules, no leash, just blood and delight, We dance through the dark, two sparks in the night. You’re my ritual, my myth, my flame— Say the word, and I’ll take the blame.

Bridge: Sick in the Head

Sick in the head, not like the rest, I smile at the bang, I sing with the death. Chant with the fallen, dance with the dread— This ain’t madness, it’s mythic thread. I do this stuff ‘cause I’m sick in the head… I do this stuff ‘cause I’m sick in the head…

Final Hook (Layered Vocals + Beat Drop)

Wanna be my itty bitty killa? Come on, walk with me and I’ll show you a thrilla. When it comes to the sick stuff, there’s no realer— What we got is pure, there’s no filler. You be my cocoa and I’ll be your vanilla. Wanna be my itty bitty killa? Come walk with me and I’ll show you a thrilla.

Outro: Marked and Mythic

We’re stitched in sin, sealed in sound, Our love’s a ritual, battle-bound. No filler, no filter, no fear, no shame— Just cocoa and vanilla, and a candy soated name.

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