The Real Reality Lyrics - Necro

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... and... 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