Текст песни Necro - Poetry In The Streets

Gory Days
Жанр: Rap
Исполнитель: Necro
Альбом: Gory Days
Длительность: 03:42
Рейтинг: 683
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: SmokeDogg


(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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