Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song First Blood, artist - Necro. Album song DIE!, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 09.08.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Psycho + Logical, Psycho+Logical
Song language: English
First Blood |
Special forces, professional with a four-fifth |
Congressional medal shit |
Aggression will get you split |
Avoid explosions with agility, mentally exploit the vulnerabilities of my enemy |
Last survivor, a master diver, fastest driver, liver than MacGyver on visor |
Aye aye sir |
Flashbacks of blasting gats, flack jacket backpack fuck you bastard, attack |
Guerrilla tactics, military practice, boobytrap set, get the match lit |
Don’t get captured |
Fuck George W on a voyage for POWs destroyed villages |
Rubble, pillaging trouble |
Killing children villains with submachine guns, generals drilling them |
A grunt can’t front, there’s no where to run to |
War hero like DeNiro in Deer Hunter |
First Blood |
I draw first blood, it’s over with and that’s that — ] |
(It's over!) |
(Nothing is over!) |
It’s similar to Vietnam |
(You just don’t turn it off! It wasn’t my war! You asked me and I didn’t ask |
you! |
Who are they to protest me, huh?) |
I draw first blood, it’s over with and that’s that |
(It's all in the past now.) |
(For you!) |
It’s similar to Vietnam |
(For me civilian life is nothing! I was in charge of million-dollar equipment! |
Back here I can’t even hold a job parking cars!) |
I draw first blood, it’s over with and that’s that |
Missing in action, I’m a get you back soon |
Interactions like shrapnel fractions that hack limbs |
Nam jungles holding guns in holes |
Lungs full of smoke, shooting mongrels |
Your son got killed, parachute down and shoot down enemies |
Nothing cute, brutal like a barracuda frown |
Knives, bows and arrows penetrate bone marrow |
You’re leaking haemoglobin marinara |
Commando send shocks like Pendo (?) bucking to kill |
Cut up your grill like Nandos |
Killing enemy troops, many in groups |
Approach em like roaches |
Ho Chi Minh trail, hit em with explosives |
Buenos noches, no chance to live |
Brains on the floor looking like poached eggs |
Torturous punishment, banana clips, helicopter gunships, veteran friendship |
I’m a get you |
My friend is all over me! |
I’ve got blood and everything and I’m tryin' to hold |
him together! |
I’m puttin'… the guy’s fuckin' insides keep coming out! |
And nobody would help! |
Nobody would help! |
He’s saying, sayin' «I wanna go home! |
I wanna go home! |
«He keeps calling my name! |
«I wanna go home, Johnny! |
I wanna drive my Chevy! |
«I said «With what? |
I can’t find your fuckin' legs! |
I can’t find your legs! |
» |