Текст пісні некро і илл білла Poetry in the streets remix
Poetry in the streets remix
Brand new third verse
Necro and Ill Bill
NECRO
The press runs the tape records the bloody mess
Documentations of the human race, can study death
They'll reach in through your TV speaker They'll feature A creature
that'll beat ya to death, 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 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 your spilling 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 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 an angle
I think my shit's too brutal for most
I might be the only one capable digesting the dose
You will not survive a screw driver driven inside your throat
Choke on blood and saliva another kaniver croaks
Remix!
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 steaming cesspool 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
ILL BILL
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 moving bad taste Another brutal shooting rampage
Turning humans to ashtrays Doobies 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 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 addicts, pieces of shit, that love the dirt
It's psychological I'm like having 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 glass stabbing 'you through your fuckin eyeballs
Have you swallowing cyanide screaming die whores
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 with my nine tongs
Murder you execution style like a crime boss
Travel through time and terminate you like a cyborg My mentality's grind core
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 steaming cesspool of human emotion
Remix!
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
New Verse!
NECRO
Rescue crews show care for the living They'll stick with them
but once death is claimed Paramedics show disregard for the victim
You command respect when your alive but once you die
Your reduced to a bloody nusense a gruesome sight to the eye
Driven a taxi is a dangerous career
You might pick up the grim reaper the passenger all taxi drivers 'fear
a robber might put a gun in your
Ear and end your life with the twitch of a finger it happens all year
You going into respiratory arrest
The fire men are pumping your chest and hope in restoring your breath
No ones immune to die in you disagree ur lyin
To urself in time everything living's history