messa

You stay in everybody’s biz, like a nosy auntie, Claimin’ you a punk but you softer than a latte. They/Them for the 'Gram, not the fam, that’s a scam, You ain’t queer, just weird with a PayPal griftin’ plan! Delusions big like your unbrushed hair, Callin’ it “performance art” — babe, no one cares. You a thrift store klepto, broke tired and old, Stealin’ vibes, stealin’ wallets, let the story be told [chorus] nessa the messa! hurricane in a ripped up skirt, Gaslight, gatekeep, then pretend you are hurt messa! Cryin’ loud for some punk acclaim, But your whole damn saga just thirst and shame. messa! Always beggin' for space you waste, Got main character dreams with day player taste! You the type to throw tantrums at dive bar shows, Then DM someone’s man like “where’d she go?” Got a zine 'bout your trauma — girl, think that it punk, just gaslightin’, gatekeepin’, smellin’ like funk! You do it for clout, I do it for bank, Talk slick to Aeliana, gon' make you walk the plank. I don’t f***t, but I might, lucky for you, this bitch come polite — catch these hands like its nap time ,with a venomous bite! [chorus] nessa the messa! hurricane in a ripped up skirt, Gaslight, gatekeep, then pretend you are hurt messa! Cryin’ loud for some punk acclaim, But your whole damn saga just thirst and shame. messa! Always beggin' for space you waste, Got main character dreams with day player taste!