Necro - Poetry In The Streets (feat. Ill Bill) | Текст песни

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• Necro
• Poetry In The Streets (feat. Ill Bill)

(Necro)
Uh
Peep the killer shit
Death murder rap shit
Bitch
Check it

The press runs to tape-record the bloody mess
Documentation so the human race can study death
They'll reach you through your TV speaker
They'll feature a creature that will beat you to death if he could meet you
You're executed when you're electrocuted
Who's responsible for a homeless man that's dead and smells putrid
We murdered your natural flesh after being thrown in a river
You will be frozen forever into a statue of death
A grasshopper in the lab dead
Stabbed in the head
Knives are like the hands of a crab
Jabbing your flab till you wrapped them and bled
Throw you off a building
Killing off your children
Drilling' holes in your corpse till you're spilling the color vermilion
We'll split your brains
I'll slit your vein
The impact of a bat cracked across your back is like getting hit by a train
I'll stick a fang in your blood bank
Then strangle my shangle bangle you like the triangle piece of bangle
I think my shit's too brutal for most
I might be the only one capable of digesting the dose
You won't survive a screwdriver driven inside your throat
Choke on blood and saliva another conniver croaks

CHORUS:
It's poetry in the streets of the big apple
And a vitality found in few other places
But look beneath the surface of the city
And you shall uncover a seething cesspool of human emotions
Gone sour
A planet with nightmares that become reality
Witness the brutality
There's poetry in the streets of the big apple
You get tackled
And grappled to the floor, white slaved up and shackled

I spit on your grave, piss in your mouth, and shit on your face
Grind you into slop meat and serve you to your friends
We're moving bad taste
Another brutal shooting rampage
Turning humans to ashtrays
Groupies to crack slaves
And boobies that lactate,
Squirting mad milk, I never have guilt
I have krill's, I'll have you fags killed
In front of your mom and your dads grill
Splattering both of them
With pieces of your exploding head
Brain fragments staining' clothing red
I make you love the pain, it hurts
We make music for drug addict pieces of shit that love the dirt
It's psychological
I'm like having a rifle shot at you
We're not the type that smile at you
We're the type to body you
Slit your throat with a broken bottle
Pieces of jagged glass stabbing' you through your fucking eyeballs
Have you swallowing cyanide screaming die whores
Watch it kill your physical first, next your minds lost
Leave you in the funeral home you make a fine corpse
Got you splattered across the walls when my nine talks!
Murder you execution style like a crime boss
Travel through time and terminate you like a cyborg
My mentality's grind core

Chorus

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