Luyện nghe bài hát Poetry In The Streets (Remix)

(Necro)
Poetry in the streets
new third verse
Necro and Ill

The press, runs the records the bloody mess
documentations of the human race, can death
they'll reach in your TV speaker
they'll
a that'll beat ya to death, if he can meet ya
your executed your electrocuted
who's for a homeless man thats dead
and putrid
we murdered natural flesh after bein thrown in a river
you'll be frozen forever a statue of death
a in the lab dead
in the head
knives are like the of a crab
jabbin your flab till you wrapped and bled
throw you off a
killin off your
drillin' holes in your corpse till your the colour vermillion
split your brains
i'll slit veins
the impact of a bat cracked your back
is like hit by a train
stick a fang in your blood bank
then
my shangle
you like the
piece of an
I think my shit's too brutal for
I might be the one capable digesting the dose
you won't survive a screw driver driven your throat
choke on blood and another kaniver croaks

Remix!

It's in the streets of the big apple
and a found in few other places
but look the surface of the city
and you shall uncover a steamin sesspool of emotion

gun sour, a planet, nightmares
that become
the brutality
its in the streets of the big apple
you get
and grappled to the floor, slaved up and shackled

I spit on your grave, piss in your mouth, and shit on your
grind you into slop meat and serve you to friends
we movin bad
brutal shootin rampage
turnin humans to
to crack slaves
and boobies lactate,
squirtin mad milk, i never guilt
i have krills, i'll have you killed
in front of mom and dads grill
both of them
with pieces of explodin head
fragments stainin' clothing red
i make you love the pain, it
we make music for drug addicts, of shit, that love the dirt
its
i'm like a rifle shot at you
we not the that smile at you
we the that bite at you
slit your throat with the broken
pieces of jagged glass stabbin' you your fuckin eyeballs
have you cyanide screamin die whores
kill physical first, next your minds lost
leave you in the funeral home you make a corpse
got you splattered across the when my nine talks
you execution style like a crime boss
travel through time and terminate you like a
my grind core

It's poetry in the of the big apple
and a vitality found in few other
but beneath the surface of the city
and you shall uncover a steamin sesspool of human

Remix!

gun sour, a planet, where
that become
witness the
its poetry in the streets of the big
you get
and grappled to the floor, slaved up and shackled

New Verse!

Rescue crews show for the living
they'll with them but once death is claimed
paramedics show disregard for the
you command respect your alive but once you
die your reduced to a bloody nusense a gruesome
to the eye driven a is a dangerous career
you might up the grim reaper the passenger
all drivers fear a robber might put a gun
in your ear and end your life the twitch of
a finger it happens all you goin into respiratory
arrest the fire men are pumpin your chest and hope in restoring your breath no ones immune to dyin' in you disagree you're lyin to in time everything living's history