Necro - Poetry In The Streets (feat. Ill Bill) Lyrics
(Necro)UhPeep the killer shitDeath murder rap shit*****Check itThe press, runs the tape records the bloody messdocumentations of the human race, can study deaththey'll reach in through your TV speakerthey'll featurea creature that'll beat ya to death, if he can meet yayour executed when your electrocutedwho's responsible for a homeless man thats deadand smells putridwe murdered your natural flesh after bein thrown in a riveryou'll be frozen forever into a statue of deatha grasshopper in the lab deadstabbed in the headknives are like the hands of a crabjabbin your flab till you wrapped them and bledthrow you off a buildingkillin off your childrendrillin' holes in your corpse till your spillin' the colours of a millioni'll split your brainsi'll slit your vainsthe impact of a bat cracked across your backis like gettin hit by a traini'll stick a fang in your blood bankthen stranglemy shangle bangleyou like the trianglepiece of an angleI think my shit's too brutal for mostI might be the only one capable digesting the doseyou won't survive a screw driver driven inside your throatchoke on blood and saliva another kaniver croaksCHORUS:It's poetry in the streets of the big appleand a vitality found in few other placesbut look beneath the surface of the cityand you shall uncover a steamin sesspool of human emotiongun sour, a planet, where nightmaresthat become realitywitness the brutalityits poetry in the streets of the big appleyou get tackledand grappled to the floor, white slaved up and shackledI spit on your grave, piss in your mouth, and shit on your facegrind you into slop meat and serve you to your friendswe movin bad tasteanother brutal shootin rampageturnin humans to ashtraysdoobies to crack slavesand *****ies that lactate,squirtin mad milk, i never have guilti have krills, i'll have you fags killedin front of your mom and dads grillsplatterin both of themwith pieces of your explodin headbrain fragments stainin' clothing redi make you love the pain, it hurtswe make music for drug addicts, pieces of shit, that love the dirtits psychologicali'm like havin a rifle shot at youwe not the type that smile at youwe the type that bite at youslit your throat with the broken bottlepieces of jagged glass stabbin' you through your *****in eyeballshave you swallowin cyanide screamin die whoreskill your physical first, next your minds lostleave you in the funeral home you make a fine corpsegot you splattered across the walls with my nine tongsmurder you execution style like a crime bosstravel through time and terminate you like a cyborgmy mentallity's grind coreChorus
