| The Godfather of the gore genre
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| Fake mobsters get chopped Into pasta lasagna
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| Parmesan body part salsa
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| You bled like a bitch red sprit, second the fucking lid
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| Hit your a dick head cause blood is squirting out your head like piss
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| Attack bike goons, trooping up platoons, Like baboons
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| Pack you in a tomb, skin you alive like a raccoon
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| Decapitated chunks when the thirty eight dumps
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| Rep it like Tommy Huighet, leave you with amputated stumps
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| Perverted like Pee Wee Herman, the meat cleaver leaves you like Steve Irwin
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| Squirming with heart murmins like flesh sirloin
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| You better bet that I’m bein deader than dead
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| Your in the after life staring at your torso
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| From your beheaded head
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| Your fucking bugging cause
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| You disrespecting I’ll be cutting jugulars
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| Rockin meat district butcher gloves
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| Hit your frontal lobe with scissors quick
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| Carve with a knife, Hemoglobin drizzle drip
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| Scar you for life on some prision shit
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| You know, it looks like rigormortis is setting in
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| Just one of my miserable actions
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| I’ll leave you in visible tractions
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| I’m using a scissor for hacking
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| And both of my fists for cracking
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| In vision my zombies ripping your aunties, uncles, parents, grannies
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| And now the ravines attacks you with the quickness
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| Check your cabinets
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| The medicine, your head is in a place beyond a sedative
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| Your better off deserve it
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| The devil says your univalent
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| My crew of hate will fill the street
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| In a basement building, Built like Mr. T
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| Like Rocky 3, The cops will flee
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| And shock and dock your mockery
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| We’re coming to get ya, Cut you to bits
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| With muddy mitts and stubbornness
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| The cruddy pics of guts you rip
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| Pick up the blood with hungry lips
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| If lifes a bitch than that’s a wish
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| The vicious cycle get you sick
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| The feds will fish for hearts intestines
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| And the Marshall evidence
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| A style of racial slur
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| Lace your facials with my urine
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| Taste and waste the pace of burning
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| Like you ate liquid detergent
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| We’ll hurt you kid I’m certain
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| You’ll be murked by lurking merchants
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| That insert the blades
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| That slurp your brains
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| To circulate with vermin
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| I can feel myself rot |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Braaains, artist - Necro. Album song The Pre-Kill, Vol. 1, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп