Strangle Hold - K Rino

Don’t worship me, I ain’t the Lord

I’m a flaming sword with vocal cords that can strangle a St. Bernard

I make sure when it rains it pours

Start language wars until the fluid in your brain is forced to stain the floors

My art is bold yet it’s sort of cold

Bite your face like crocodiles doing at the waterhole

And once your camp is raided, bodies are laminated

Maybe I’ll kiss your ring once your hand is amputated

There’s morphine in my bar schemes

I slept for fourteen seconds and had twenty-five eleven part dreams

I got styles in all mixtures

Bury you in the sheet rock behind family pictures in the wall fixtures

The rap stat attack minds

And black your vital signs until your flatline flat-lines

K-Rino the great highness teaching at the finest school where students get

murdered for making a A-minus

When I swing every emcee ducks

I’m the opposite of a menage a trois ‘cause I don’t give three f*cks

Greatness cannot be rushed

When you breathe what I concede you heave of battery acid reflux

I’m lancing you like a panther’s tooth

Catch you in your dancing suit, slice you into chunks and sell cans of you

My pens are like poisonous syringes

I go on war binges and launch missiles like bars from my jaw hinges

Words I mention tend to dismember appendages

Enter his temple then spit 'til his memory hemorrhages

And when these rappers call, I’ma nap ‘em all

And need a paragraph-sniffing cadaver dog to find your dead catalog

I’m flaming men if they ever mention my name again

I claim I been through twenty thousand pens like Chamberlain

Don’t believe I’m a trip, come and see a few clips

I rip unreadable scripts that make vehicles flip

I bring to fruition atom-splitting cataclysms

The anachronism with backwards vision and mad animal mannerisms

Candles glisten as phantoms listen

I channel out a random mission, dismantling this planet systems

My monograph’s a clad madness

That smash physical masses to bacterial fragments

My written enigmas are unsolvable

I swept the crowd off their feet once they saw me sweep your feet off of you

As for your flow, half a million folks heard the

So no records were sold, meaning you went negative gold

I was dropping new styles in school child

By 22, I was removing and puttin' ‘em on a frozen food aisle

I got a in my head, infrared pencil lead

What I said in November left December dead

Me and my black-suited ruthless pals

Boost morale by spewing paragraphs that hit like root canals