Sounds good
All right
So Anna’s gonna be on the wheels for the open mic
We got my man Necro in the place to be, what’s up?
Yo, what’s the deal, Bob?
Everything is cool, Necro
We got Psychological Records up in here, slime buckets
Mr. Hyde’s in your grills, too
Y’all fuckin’ bitches out there
Necro’s ready to lace you
All y’all goons out there, at home
Be careful
Dirtbags and slime buckets
Necro
We got Brooklyn up in here, baby, BK
Necro
You all die
I’m not gonna joke around, I know you’re here for business
What’s the deal?
Just stay about six inches away from the microphone
All right, no doubt
Check it, yo, you know this beat’s brutal
Drop that shit, Necro
We ain’t come to play games, I’m extremely blunt
Shut this shit off if you’re a squeamish cunt
That can’t handle seeing the front of a head blown off for being dumb
Stop the pushing, pulling, and screaming
Death is ugly ‘cause you fear it, it’s beautiful to demons
So what? You bust chrome
Take away your skin, you’re just bones
Get your guts blown out your stomach ‘til pus foams
Now you’re an unkown, better run home
Your spine stabbed from behind
Your physical destroyed like a mortician’s mind
Crucifix you when I shoot the pistol and blow off your fucking head
All your body parts are superficial, useless tissue
You’ll get beat with fists ‘til blood’s runnin’ down the concrete like piss
My drug medicates, leave you dead and stiff like that bitch with a head of snakes
My butchering is flavor like Little Debbie cakes
I’ll drop an excellent beat then burn it up like Mexican heat, like dissection of meat
I’ll cut the track to pieces, it’s all about making G’s
So, yo, please, if I could I would sell crack to Jesus
The world is death, blood, sodomy, war
The world is death, blood, sodomy, more
The monster of gore, entrepreneur, constantly raw
Watch every riddle unfold, life is short and you have little control
Once your kidney is old and your flesh is brittle and cold
You’ll find yourself in the middle of an old folks’ home, sitting alone, die
I ain’t playing, check it
For all my goons all over the world
International, irrational, I’m bashin’ you, give me the cash, duke
Yo, you’re a clown with bruised-up ribs, bound and abducted, kill ‘em
Letting a fuck live’s counterproductive
You’ll be found in the ground with cut tits, drowned in a bucket of piss
Actin’ like you’re down with ruckus when you sound like you suck dick
I have an obligation to massacre you like a hobgoblin
Chasing you, slashing you, guess what hydrochloric acid can do
Through observation, it looks like the blob erasing your face
A convenient casket for you, one of my songs will ruin your life
I’m committing the wrongdoing, splitting you in two with a knife
I’m the intuitive type, I guess you wish you could live
But your death is a lucrative plight
The criteria for slaughtering is my Siberia, frigid rap like a Nigerian spitting caps
Superior with an ax, the tourniquet’s wrapping your skull cap
Like a fitted hat ‘til it cracks, ‘til it fucking cracks
Necro
Scumbags, Psychologic Records
Psychological Records, because it’s logical to be a psycho
Get killed
Check this out, just gettin’ warmed up
We gonna do it like this, check it, check it, check it, check it
Drop
Yo, brutal, hospital scalpel-packing, I’ll flip you
Twenty-four-inch machete on my hip ready to rip you
Whip out the blade swinging, chopping, dropping Satanic doctrine
My brain’s dusted like Hofmann, a Glock Ten to your spine
Sadistic sicko, linguistic schizo, when you’re rocking this I insist you sniff blow
Or die slow, juxing the track like I’m cooking some crack
Looking to smack you in the face if you’re wack
It’s a Brooklyn attack, packing an ax, relax
My clique’s a whole batch of cats with gats, acrobats that clap
So shut up, bitch, my boxcutter slits open your lips
You’ll get yoked ‘til you choke on your spit
You sluts got no nuts, get off my putz, or you’ll be coughing up guts
A walking corpse with a crutch for talking too much
The sick fuck, my clique’s evil, sick people, your shit’s feeble, give up
The beat, I hear the beat screwing up, definitely, the beat is chopped
That record is a chopped beat, but it’s all good, though
It’s all good, though, ‘cause Necro makes up
We drop one more verse, we can do this porn
I need a delicate bitch, a bitch with a great set of tits
Give her some sedatives, my game’s negative on proper etiquette
I like a woman that’s down to sell her clit
A bitch who’s inherited the skill in givin’ head to a dick
You’re a fucking cocksucking Confederate, you’re down to suck John Merrick’s dick
You’ve got a pair of generic tits and you use them to your benefit
You’re a slut and that’s the end of it
Fucking cunts, what you think, I got bitches, check it
You’re dead as a queer, you bled out the rear
I’m walking through the ghetto with Ricky Martin’s head on a spear
Repping, I only fuck with naked bare hoes
In my world, women don’t wear clothes, or they get crucified like scarecrows
Force me to kill, you’ll get murdered because of your grill
You’ll get strangled with your pants, mangle you with my hands
Rip off your ears, poke out your eyes, bite off your nose, you’re about to die
Your sight is gross like a transvestite exposed
I’ll clap your mind, writing raps on your spine, let’s practice crime
You’ll get raped by dirty dicks, your dirty tits get split
Until they drip pus and you’re one pretty murdered bitch
You never heard me spit? I’ll spit in your face then suffocate you
I love to hate you, wait, duke
I’m baggin’ skins, got nothing but arrogance
For you mannequins made out of ceramic and limbs
I’ll slay you, wrap guitar strings around your fucking neck, that’s how I play you
The beat cut up again, it keeps doin’ it
But you’ll die for that, check it
Cut the circulation, bloody perspiration, study the earth’s creation
Leave you shaking when I disperse my hate through verse perverse verbatim
Check it, Hyde, rip it
Your spine is caught on my blade, now you got cancer
Cut your time short like the lifepsan of a hamster
Dance on you with cleats, hole spikes underneath
It’s duck hunting season and your crew’s looking like geese
Even though the feds listen, I make the red glisten
You sit in bedridden, one-fourth your head missing
Provoke the porcupine, your face is holding pins
Be an Art Garfunkel, ram and rape the Olsen twins
Stared at your clique, think they’re daring and shit
Trying to play gorilla with no hair on your dick
Run up on you while you’re sexing, hang you with condoms
Givin’ suicide, feel like angry Ugandans
Queens hitman charging three G’s a kill
Fill my mark’s arm with heroin like C.C. Deville
Poison in your veins, all my boys are skilled to maim
Rip out the hearts of men if you’re singing like The Cardigans
Ain’t no bargaining, fuck, the deal’s closed
Bust you like a poacher nigga, break a baby seal’s nose
Check it out
You hoes
Check it out, Necro, “Most Sadistic” in stores, comin’ soon, this week
You go pick it up
Can’t fuck with it
I know goons is pickin’ it up
You know how I rep it, rappin’, producin’, directing, pimping
All you cats, Psychological Records, year 2000, taking this big like No Limit
Goons support, you know what I’m sayin’?
Buy the record and pick up the Ill Bill
Ill Bill, “How to Kill a Cop / Gangsta Rap”
I got goons comin’ out, Goretex solo, son
What? Al-Tariq, “Feel This Shit” comin’ out on my label
We got joints, and look out for Necro, “I Need Drugs”
Got the “I Need Drugs” video in stores
If you smoke crack in your house
Yo, if you like the “I Need Drugs” song, you better go see the video, you slut
I shot it in a crack hotel, I got two crackheads shooting up, it’s ill
Don’t sleep, ‘cause you’ll die
Fucking get killed
All right, I want to say one thing, one thing alone
I want to say peace to Uncle Howie
Shout out to Uncle Howie, Uncle Howie ain’t come to the two Seders that my mother had
He’s strung out
‘Cause, everybody, I’m Jewish and we had the Seders tonight
And Howie, he didn’t show up, Howie, I’m disappointed in you
He’s in the streets, Howie’s in the streets runnin’ around with needles
Even Mr. Hyde came, and I ain’t Jewish, I’m Italian, I ate fuckin’ Jewish meatballs
Yo, right now, Bobbito, Howie is probably somewhere in Coney Island projects right now
Gettin’ ripped, gettin’ ripped with hookers, chillin’ with hookers
Picking up lint on the floor
Let me say one other thing
What’s the deal?
I just wanna say, as a disclaimer, the views of yourself and Mr. Hyde
Do not necessarily reflect those of WKCR or of the radio program
Say word
Just so cats know, Bobbito dropped that same line in 1994
When I came up here and kicked violence and gay bashing
Just so you know, talkin’ six years later we up in here
Faggots are cool but stay away from us
That’s how me and Bob go way back, talkin’ six years, baby, ninety-gore
Saying that, saying that, Necro, I want to say peace, and I always say peace to everybody
No doubt, peace, I feel that
Thank you for coming through
And I want to say to the utmost, my man Ill Bill and Reverend Goretex and Sabac
Will be up here I believe, May, May 18th or May 25th
“Black Helicopters,” I produced “Black Helicopters,” go pick it up
I did the new Missin’ Linx, chill, chill, Missin’ Linx
I did the Missin’ Linx, “What It Is,” side A, you like that joint, Bob?
And look out for the Necro t-shirt line
Necro t-shirts, I got three new t-shirts comin’ out, pick it up
We got t-shirts, we got CDs, I’ma have cats slingin’ for me all over the world
Okay, great
All over the world, and I ain’t goin’ to jail, I ain’t goin’ to jail