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"Necro"
"Necro"
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"Necro"
"Necro"
название:
автор:
альбомы: I Need Drugs
Burn the Groove to Death
автор:
Necro
альбомы: I Need Drugs
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[Necro] Yo, insult the colt ya future casket, Ima break a cassette tape and stab you with the plastic, so bleed beautifully. roll up your shirt, strap on a belt, start shootin me, but draw no blood, creep like a water bug, peep the gore you bled. roll with a hord of thugs, necro's the lord of drugs. pay me for death till you got no brains cell left. no fib, your in a prison up in your crib, yo you dead kid, no brass, no tassel left. I'll leave my beef bloody, I cook it red, your future is as good as dead, I'll shove my blade in, so you could fade out. your trapped in a time that's played out, go check the date out, you're a pussy that no one ate out, while my brains on fast foward, you're a victim and you don't even know it, the evil poet, you got no hand, you can't catch it when I throw it. depression makes you copp dimes, until your brain crashes like the streets without traffic signals and stop-signs. cause everyday, is judgment day for me, cause humans that don't know me get scared and run away from me. its trife, hate, holds the control to life, channel your energy, cut through your foes like a soldier's knife. while the average front, I'm on a never-ending scavenger hunt, I'd rather be blunt so violate the fact you wanna die is great, watch me annihilate, I got insanity inside a jar and I'm dropping it off the empire state. cause you touching the mics, injustice, so muskets we trust kid, so bust clip, the verbal sultan, my philosophy is molten, cause my pupils can only peep a world, unwholesome, insulting, repulsive, revolting! let's risk it for piles of green, with, sadistic violent schemes, twisted like silent screams. I have a determination in, seeing your termination through extermination. cold like a frozen igloo, your rubber room is closing in on you, the chosen jig you, death, is, fucking you insane. you'll get nothing from my pockets, the only thing you got sewn up is your eye sockets. so play dead as I color you blood red, give up the bread or I'll put a hole in your fuckin skull, large like a huge alien head. incinerate the beat, till its six feet deep, then do a jesus on em, to the crucifix, repeat, now watch me.[chorus](sample) burn the groove to death kid...nail em to the cross yeah, yeah, yeah burn the groove to death kid...nail em to the cross yeah, yeah, yeah[Necro] The hour glass is filled with blow, sniff your time away, sink into the snow and suffocate your fate, the mind decays. strain the brain the spine will pay, theres no verbal vermin vaccination, Im doing a life bid in imagination. bitch I dont gotta answer you, how bout I cancel you? Bury you with satan, smoke up and do a dance for you. morbid shit. peep me poppin on ya guts G, watch step, its slippery when bloody. Im bleedin sin, theres cancer in the air, you'll breathe it in, my whole scheme is to achieve a win, slice you, leave you with un-even skin. its apparent your transparent you can't conceal your lies, your synthetic like women that are really guys, you got Jeff Heely's eyes. fuck you in your cunt group, I'll bring murder right to your front stoop, touch you in a commatosin caress, I'll propose a toast to your death, I hope you'll decompose with one breath, I suppose I'll infest, I doubt ya fly, peep the poison heres enough for an amount to die, and the holes in ya body you aint got enough fingers to count that high. after you lose, sparin my team for green you'll be crying, so much your putrid smelling body will be washed clean. rippin the mics alot to do with pride, its necessary, to bury involuntary, like mandatory suicide. government style. theres nothing more fresh than a stove covered with flesh, I'm dressed not to impress, I'm cold laughing G. Im so fly the SWAT teams after me, cause everywhere I go I bring a blood bath with me, peep the creep, creep, yo hemaglobins cheap, just look for it its skin deep, each nigga next to you got eight accessible pints you can keep. peep the black market, ya girl and there aint nothin but a target. I'll gem star you up, mark you with an exclamation, joox you the jug, and I don't need no explanation, its all exploitation, my slang has no expiration. bloodied up you're a sight for sore eyes, you'll be screaming for me when your cuts get basted in sodium chloride. I'm pulling your cards kid, I see the Ace of Spades, death is in your future watch it parade to your face with blades. the reals reviled, your face in the jiffy bag is sealed. wouldn't kiss up to deseased, I'm on a H.G Louis blood feast, I rome with the insane type, your life is like water floating down the drain pipe. a scream or cries, cracked feind demise, open up your eyes and read between the lines, a flick, imagine, light up a kit, the whole drum kit, till theres no life it it, despite them two good peieces of crooked wood, now beat me.[chorus] (sample) burn the groove to death kid...nail em to the cross yeah, yeah, yeah burn the groove to death kid...nail em to the cross yeah, yeah, yeah
Это интересно:Родился и рос Ron Braunstein на неприветливых улицах Бруклина, а в свободное время занимался музыкой (и как все-таки здорово, что ему не подарили скрипку). Потихоньку интерес к ней перешел в практическое русло. Произошло это примерно в возрасте 11-ти лет. Белому еврейскому мальчику из бедной семьи пришлись по духу такие группы как Sepultura, Napalm Death и Obituary.... продолжение
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