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