The Real Reality

Intro (charles manson):

The parole board's a bunch of stupid bureaucrats men, who are laying up on the dollar bill: "take that poison and..! Snd... and die in that cell; or say you're full of shit and we'll let you go." you know?! so the parole board wants me to go in and count down to their reality and say that their reality is the real reality and my reality is really the stuoid, dumb reality.

Verse 1:

Cut through you're flesh

With sharp knives

Blast you to death

Laugh in you're face; I'm as trife

As it gets

When I said it, leave you to pass

Like archives

Forget it, you better walk that stat

When the berretta sparks, click clack

Get back

More pieces of you're grill

Will be shot off; kid I keep it ill

Death rap mastery

In crib bumpin

Battery thumpin

With anyone that has it in for me

Dump a clip o' dum-dums in a dummy

Then dump him in the dumpster

I talk so much crazy shit

There's a chance

You just might not believe me until I punch you

In you're fuckin face kid

Face it

I'ma have to demonstrate shit

Some demented hate shit

Then some young impressionable kid'll watch me and emulate it

The cycle o' psychos never ends

Malevolence

Continues

Through venues

Ever since I got banned from knitting factory on wetlands

Chorus:

Hustle like a sicko

'Cause I got money comin to me

There's enough of it out there for necro to snatch 50 mill

I won't stop 'til I have it

'Cause I'm ambitious

And maliciously vicious

Enough to kill

Anyone in my way better move

We came from nothing

And now our foundation is strong

I will rep my own shit

Fuck what you do

You can't do what I do

Gores of original so it's on

Verse 2:

Jabbin you

Or stabbin you up

Pick one

Grabbin you up

Quick son

Snuffed up

Bucked up

You a fuckin victim

Necro be the representative of brooklyn, new york: That's where I live

Gats to your rib

Robbin you blindly

Find me

Back in the crib

Chillin iller with a bitch

That's willin and able to strip

On the table for a villain with a goal

I'm makin a million before 30 years old

I keep shit real when I step

If my reputation's at stake

No hesitation

When I break faces

Whippin out

Razors

Flippin out

Logical psycho necro

Astronomical sicko

The last of a dying breed

I'm the master

Of sick bastards

I'm indeed

Pump this loud 'til you're eardrums burst

My verse

Comforts you like techno

And beef when ten cats step

And they get mirked

Chorus