(feat. Mr. Hyde)
(Sample from the movie - "The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc")
"Go home!
Go now, in peace!
If you do not go now, you will be buried in this field!
I've seen...enough...blood!
But if you want more, I can't stop you!
I can only warn you, that it will be your blood...
Not ours!"
(Necro)
Evil is anointed get disappointed
Guillotine to your spleen, you'll get defeated you can't beat it join it (What?)
Death comes in the worst way through satanic wordplay
Here's a knife in your spine, Happy Birthday (Bitch)
Bile, lubrication, crack vile rejuvenation
Subdue my patient, pursue cremation
Insert a lance, in your back through the circumstance
You're dead, over your corpse I do a murder dance
I'm on some stab you with a shank shit
My language is filled with frankness and anguish you're anxious
Greetings, to all cretins, to those bleeding from repeated beatings
I'm like the snake in Eden (Ssss)
Get down with Necro? Be loyal
Or get strangled with a scarf 'till you barf what goes around recoils
My conversation disects you like Operation
My obligation is to kill Nazis with concentration (Kill 'Em)
Romance, ain't a slow dance
It's a slut with no pants
sucking, holding my dick with both hands
Put a gun to your pockets
My steez would blind the eye piece of a high priest like the sun to his sockets
Chorus-(Mr.Hyde)
Violins of violence will thrive on destruction
It's Necro abduction with Hyde corruption
You flirt with escape of death????? in the clip
'Cause happy endings are not in the script-x2
(Necro)
I drop english vocab distastefully, gracefully
With a machete strapped at my hip I'm in the place to be
Reppin' brutality faithfully, my religion's sin
bash a pigeon in, I'm belligerent
Praise to all midgets in America with short ligaments
Do your thing, size don't mean shit, any nigga could win (True)
Talking out your ass is great
You'll get drastic hate
Force you to masticate
A fuckin plastic plate (Bitch)
I got your brain through acquisition
Now you're on the streets smokin' crack on a mission lookin' like an apparition (Uncle Howie)
Your death is like angelic
The splattering of your guts makes a beautiful pattern, it's psychadelic
Kiss your last hundred dollars bye
Your wallets mine, scream, holler-cry, you've been disqualified
My demented thoughts need to be vented
And sacramented, your tendons blended a splendid
(chorus)-x2
