You're Dead Lyrics - Necro Instrumentals, Vol. 1 - Necro

[verse 1] 

Ahhhhhh, necro! 

Yo, the most morbid overdose off it 

Like cindy crawford's baby comatose in the coffin 

I'm awful, often unlawful 

Crack you with a softball in your skull 

Until you've lost all your memory, every morsel 

Mutilate the beat, rejuvenate the street 

While you duplicate, repeat 

Leave you lookin like bloody lubricated meat 

I've got a gun to pull 

And I'm comfortable 

Pumpin a full clip into the wonderful front of your skull 

Your life is not refundable, stumble into the underworld 

Where bigger hoes than you didn't come to your girl 

Bustin off like I'm huntin for squirrels 

A bullet hits you ripping your muscle like a hundred curls 

And that's that, you bullshit artists 

Can catch an ascap when you clap right through your knapsack backpack 

Through an intruder's chest right through the flesh 

Shove the knife in deep coz life is cheap 

Like hookers from budapest 

Chorus: 

You're dead dead, you're dead dead, you're dead dead 

Dead 

You're dead dead, you're dead dead, you're so dead 

And that's what I said 

You're dead dead, you're dead dead, you're dead dead 

Dead 

You're dead dead, you're dead dead, you're dead dead 

(so dead) that's what I said 

[verse 2] 

Ill bill's seen demons in back of taxi cabs 

My thoughts attack me like a bad acid tab 

Or a crack drag or black flag 

Tales from the darkside, mandatory suicide 

You and I collide, member suit and ties arrive 

Driving medicated, then the thoughts within the dream accelerated 

Then some other motherfucker levitated 

Talkin bout some vampire shit like he's dedicated 

Decapitated that fuckin faggot then I celebrated 

Fuckin with me you fuckin with psychos 

Gunshots and knifeholes, walk on my tightrope, you know how life goes 

It's like a dice roll, I love the drama, my mind is set to kill you 

Spill your blood everywhere, like the broken glass of wine 

And under the path of disaster of a bastard by design the blast and i 

Fuck these bitches, love the cash and cry 

And we all sick, quick to torture you, 

Cut off your balls and stuff em down your throat 

Like you sniffed a pound of coke, you're startin to choke 

Chorus