(Necro)
Uh
Peep the k**er sh**
d**h murder rap sh**
b**h
Check it
The press, runs the tape records the bloody mess
Documentations of the human race, can study d**h
They'll reach in through your TV speaker
They'll feature
A creature that'll beat ya to d**h, if he can meet ya
Your executed when your electrocuted
Who's responsible for a homeless man that's dead
And smells putrid
We murdered your natural flesh after bein thrown in a river
You'll be frozen forever into a statue of d**h
A gra**hopper in the lab dead
Stabbed in the head
Knives are like the hands of a crab
Jabbin your flab till you wrapped them and bled
Throw you off a building
k**in off your children
Drillin' holes in your corpse till your spillin' the colours of a million
I'll split your brains
I'll slit your vains
The impact of a bat cracked across your back
Is like gettin hit by a train
I'll stick a fang in your blood bank
Then strangle
My shangle bangle
You like the triangle
Piece of an angle
I think my sh**'s too brutal for most
I might be the only one capable digesting the dose
You won't survive a screw driver driven inside your throat
Choke on blood and saliva another kaniver 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 steamin sesspool of human emotion
Gun sour, a planet, where nightmares
That become reality
Witness the brutality
Its 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 sh** on your face
Grind you into slop meat and serve you to your friends
We bringin bad taste
Another brutal shootin rampage
Turnin humans to ashtrays
Doobies to crack slaves
And b**bies that lactate
Squirtin mad milk, i never have guilt
I have krills, i'll have you f*gs k**ed
In front of your mom and dads grill
Splatterin both of them
With pieces of your explodin head
Brain fragments stainin' clothing red
I make you love the pain, it hurts
We make music for drug addicts, pieces of sh**, that love the dirt
Its psychological
I'm like havin a rifle shot at you
We not the type that smile at you
We the type that bite at you
Slit your throat with the broken bottle
Pieces of jagged gla** stabbin' you through your f**in eyeballs
Have you swallowin cyanide screamin die who*es
k** your physical first, next your minds lost
Leave you in the funeral home you make a fine corpse
Got you splattered across the walls with my nine tongs
Murder you execution style like a crime boss
Travel through time and terminate you like a cyborg
My mentallity's grind core
Chorus