| Song | Evil Shit |
| Artist | Necro |
| Album | The Pre-Fix For Death |
| 作曲 : Braunstein | |
| This beat's some evil shit to inspire you to start a fire | |
| Do something illegal, only thing you require is a wire to strangle someone | |
| Let out your anger, stop buildin up, you're filled up with pain and anguish | |
| Kid do you understand my insane language? | |
| Sensus(?), violence, psychology, apprentinces of sickness learnin the art of ballin(?) and robbery with demented insctincts | |
| Cemented in your mental is the exceptional fact that feeling sentimental for humans is detremental | |
| I'm experimental in the ways of murderin you hurbs and turds with absurd words and verbs | |
| Would you have perfered being lured into a crucifixed scenerio, were you're eaten by birds? Bein perserio(?) | |
| Who's(?) convicted, describing good descriptions | |
| Perscribing murder through scribes, and desicrate the bible's vibes | |
| Maggots crawling on this page as I write this rap | |
| It's amazing, appalling, I think Satan's calling. I might snap | |
| [Chorus X2] | |
| Rap, stab, flesh, puke, slip and grab your neck | |
| Bludgeon you bloody you buddy, you stupid? What's after death? | |
| Psychological with the demonic pull, reelin you in dis 'n peelin your skin like a psychotic bull | |
| God won't protect your existence, so I dont respect your religion | |
| Visually you reflect a pidgeon, this'll be disected by traffic | |
| Graphic violence the science of a bloodbath is mathematic multiplying of catostrophic dying of vinyll plastic | |
| Or a CD, massive(?), you can't answer whether I'm making sense or not or imitating Manson | |
| Preaching the end of God is my mantra. Enter the pod, take a trip into the nucleus of gore where the center is scarred | |
| You'll catch a barbarian beating by convicted thugs | |
| Left in the sanitary, I'm eating perscription drugs | |
| Force me to brutalize, demonstrate to you how I utilize a butcher knife to computerize your flesh pixelate you | |
| Triple 6 degrade you. You can't quarentine the therpeutic thorazine for ever putrid horror scenes | |
| That sick cleverly secluded in the origin of this cerebrum deep-rooted info for the corroner team | |
| [Chorus X2] | |
| Rap, stab, flesh, puke, slip and grab your neck | |
| Bludgeon you bloody you buddy, you stupid? What's after death? | |
| Psychological with the demonic pull, reelin you in dis 'n peelin your skin like a psychotic bull |
| zuò qǔ : Braunstein | |
| This beat' s some evil shit to inspire you to start a fire | |
| Do something illegal, only thing you require is a wire to strangle someone | |
| Let out your anger, stop buildin up, you' re filled up with pain and anguish | |
| Kid do you understand my insane language? | |
| Sensus?, violence, psychology, apprentinces of sickness learnin the art of ballin? and robbery with demented insctincts | |
| Cemented in your mental is the exceptional fact that feeling sentimental for humans is detremental | |
| I' m experimental in the ways of murderin you hurbs and turds with absurd words and verbs | |
| Would you have perfered being lured into a crucifixed scenerio, were you' re eaten by birds? Bein perserio? | |
| Who' s? convicted, describing good descriptions | |
| Perscribing murder through scribes, and desicrate the bible' s vibes | |
| Maggots crawling on this page as I write this rap | |
| It' s amazing, appalling, I think Satan' s calling. I might snap | |
| Chorus X2 | |
| Rap, stab, flesh, puke, slip and grab your neck | |
| Bludgeon you bloody you buddy, you stupid? What' s after death? | |
| Psychological with the demonic pull, reelin you in dis ' n peelin your skin like a psychotic bull | |
| God won' t protect your existence, so I dont respect your religion | |
| Visually you reflect a pidgeon, this' ll be disected by traffic | |
| Graphic violence the science of a bloodbath is mathematic multiplying of catostrophic dying of vinyll plastic | |
| Or a CD, massive?, you can' t answer whether I' m making sense or not or imitating Manson | |
| Preaching the end of God is my mantra. Enter the pod, take a trip into the nucleus of gore where the center is scarred | |
| You' ll catch a barbarian beating by convicted thugs | |
| Left in the sanitary, I' m eating perscription drugs | |
| Force me to brutalize, demonstrate to you how I utilize a butcher knife to computerize your flesh pixelate you | |
| Triple 6 degrade you. You can' t quarentine the therpeutic thorazine for ever putrid horror scenes | |
| That sick cleverly secluded in the origin of this cerebrum deeprooted info for the corroner team | |
| Chorus X2 | |
| Rap, stab, flesh, puke, slip and grab your neck | |
| Bludgeon you bloody you buddy, you stupid? What' s after death? | |
| Psychological with the demonic pull, reelin you in dis ' n peelin your skin like a psychotic bull |