Necro - Poetry in the Streets - The Ill Billy Boys lyrics

(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 movin 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