Overkill Lyrics
| Song | Overkill |
| Artist | K-Rino |
| Album | Book Number 7 |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| (K-Rino:) | |
| You been impacted and attacked with, a mixture of aromatic paragraphs | |
| Graphed it with autistic cataclysmic, mathematical acrobatics | |
| My mind, confines plenty rhymes | |
| Slice your stomach with the mic twenty times, even lines on your torso that look like mini blinds | |
| And people could peep through, and view your vital organs anytime | |
| A psychic told me I won't come into my prime, till I'm 129 | |
| I'll lesson ya, body mass from flesh | |
| Into a watery a mist, and spray you out of can like air freshener | |
| I won't have any problems, stopping ya | |
| The one man mafia that's chopping ya, till I fillet ya like tallopia | |
| My glock spits, nero toxic hot bricks | |
| My synopsis make rocks split, block hits from unseen entities that I box with | |
| I hold a key like locksmiths, got X-ray optics | |
| Grew thoughts I get, sit outside my knowledge pit cause they could not fit | |
| My virus too strong, to call off | |
| I could stand on one foot on a building ledge, in a strong wind and couldn't fall off | |
| I spark the seas, that are hard to read | |
| I'm from a larger creed a Martian breed, that turns caution offers to quadriplede | |
| The strap cannibal, that rap fannels | |
| Like states on the Animal Channel, that traps mammals in the annals of my neck panel | |
| The dichotomy, my word logic locks you | |
| And stops you from breathing out, until the death angel adopts you | |
| You wanna have it, take a stab at it | |
| I'm avid about smashing your cabbage, at the specks of forensic lab fabric | |
| Impostors copy my logic, my body and knowledge | |
| To your body's composite, from solid to liquid to gas and back to solid | |
| An apocalyptic, flame rips | |
| From my lips at insane clips, that strips fragment and many micro grains and brain chips | |
| I distribute facts, amongst ya | |
| The chiropractor, that replace needles with multiple axe in your back for acupuncture | |
| The inhabitant, of the labyrinth Babylon | |
| Paramount paragon, and ones we laid marathons with ninety pound batons | |
| And spark sun, cause I been hotter | |
| The Bin Laden sin plotter, that'll beat your ghost out of you like a piñata | |
| My information, level contagious | |
| Blazing abrasion, that had you phased with radiation like a chemo patient | |
| When average rappers, scavenge passion from attabance | |
| I ravage anatomy savage, and won't even let the maggots have it | |
| Don't try to draft the chapter, after me | |
| You'll think you levitating but you'll be actually, hanging rope defying gravity | |
| The word merchant, that squirt serpents with a flow pump | |
| Lyrically I'm the opposite of a hurt workman, cause I get's no comp | |
| Your verses, are worthless | |
| My thirst is strong enough to cold Earth's water, from the Earth's inner core up to it's surface | |
| I'll leave a generation, birth-less | |
| Carry hearses in other dimensions, while being nourished by the milk of shirtless nurses | |
| You quoting stuff, that ain't potent enough | |
| I seen a ghost of the rhyme you wrote, leaving out of your rap folder holding floating up | |
| Like Ike I beat and bruise the mic, if I use it right | |
| You gon' lose tonight, and every pen you choose'll go on strike and refuse to write | |
| I'm overseen, by wicked guardians | |
| With entity after every performance, and make me slaughter part of the audience | |
| I never finish a battle, one paragraph they blue | |
| Just like a phone number, most rappers dash half way through | |
| I designed the rhyme, my wits that I could of read at first | |
| I didn't get a chance, people were screaming and giving me dap before I said the verse | |
| I'll speak to your brain, and tremble it | |
| The skim of it I'll dismember it, blow up the frame and let a baby reassemble it | |
| Skills that are doping em, with opium | |
| The trophy I'm accepting, while my victims head lay hopelessly on a podium | |
| (talking:) | |
| Go on say it dog say it, you cried huh | |
| (nah), you so mad you cried right you did | |
| You did mayn, you cried | |
| Shit, you were mad then a motherfucker | |
| You cried nigga, you cried | |
| What did you do, to deserve that shit |
| KRino: | |
| You been impacted and attacked with, a mixture of aromatic paragraphs | |
| Graphed it with autistic cataclysmic, mathematical acrobatics | |
| My mind, confines plenty rhymes | |
| Slice your stomach with the mic twenty times, even lines on your torso that look like mini blinds | |
| And people could peep through, and view your vital organs anytime | |
| A psychic told me I won' t come into my prime, till I' m 129 | |
| I' ll lesson ya, body mass from flesh | |
| Into a watery a mist, and spray you out of can like air freshener | |
| I won' t have any problems, stopping ya | |
| The one man mafia that' s chopping ya, till I fillet ya like tallopia | |
| My glock spits, nero toxic hot bricks | |
| My synopsis make rocks split, block hits from unseen entities that I box with | |
| I hold a key like locksmiths, got Xray optics | |
| Grew thoughts I get, sit outside my knowledge pit cause they could not fit | |
| My virus too strong, to call off | |
| I could stand on one foot on a building ledge, in a strong wind and couldn' t fall off | |
| I spark the seas, that are hard to read | |
| I' m from a larger creed a Martian breed, that turns caution offers to quadriplede | |
| The strap cannibal, that rap fannels | |
| Like states on the Animal Channel, that traps mammals in the annals of my neck panel | |
| The dichotomy, my word logic locks you | |
| And stops you from breathing out, until the death angel adopts you | |
| You wanna have it, take a stab at it | |
| I' m avid about smashing your cabbage, at the specks of forensic lab fabric | |
| Impostors copy my logic, my body and knowledge | |
| To your body' s composite, from solid to liquid to gas and back to solid | |
| An apocalyptic, flame rips | |
| From my lips at insane clips, that strips fragment and many micro grains and brain chips | |
| I distribute facts, amongst ya | |
| The chiropractor, that replace needles with multiple axe in your back for acupuncture | |
| The inhabitant, of the labyrinth Babylon | |
| Paramount paragon, and ones we laid marathons with ninety pound batons | |
| And spark sun, cause I been hotter | |
| The Bin Laden sin plotter, that' ll beat your ghost out of you like a pi ata | |
| My information, level contagious | |
| Blazing abrasion, that had you phased with radiation like a chemo patient | |
| When average rappers, scavenge passion from attabance | |
| I ravage anatomy savage, and won' t even let the maggots have it | |
| Don' t try to draft the chapter, after me | |
| You' ll think you levitating but you' ll be actually, hanging rope defying gravity | |
| The word merchant, that squirt serpents with a flow pump | |
| Lyrically I' m the opposite of a hurt workman, cause I get' s no comp | |
| Your verses, are worthless | |
| My thirst is strong enough to cold Earth' s water, from the Earth' s inner core up to it' s surface | |
| I' ll leave a generation, birthless | |
| Carry hearses in other dimensions, while being nourished by the milk of shirtless nurses | |
| You quoting stuff, that ain' t potent enough | |
| I seen a ghost of the rhyme you wrote, leaving out of your rap folder holding floating up | |
| Like Ike I beat and bruise the mic, if I use it right | |
| You gon' lose tonight, and every pen you choose' ll go on strike and refuse to write | |
| I' m overseen, by wicked guardians | |
| With entity after every performance, and make me slaughter part of the audience | |
| I never finish a battle, one paragraph they blue | |
| Just like a phone number, most rappers dash half way through | |
| I designed the rhyme, my wits that I could of read at first | |
| I didn' t get a chance, people were screaming and giving me dap before I said the verse | |
| I' ll speak to your brain, and tremble it | |
| The skim of it I' ll dismember it, blow up the frame and let a baby reassemble it | |
| Skills that are doping em, with opium | |
| The trophy I' m accepting, while my victims head lay hopelessly on a podium | |
| talking: | |
| Go on say it dog say it, you cried huh | |
| nah, you so mad you cried right you did | |
| You did mayn, you cried | |
| Shit, you were mad then a motherfucker | |
| You cried nigga, you cried | |
| What did you do, to deserve that shit |
| KRino: | |
| You been impacted and attacked with, a mixture of aromatic paragraphs | |
| Graphed it with autistic cataclysmic, mathematical acrobatics | |
| My mind, confines plenty rhymes | |
| Slice your stomach with the mic twenty times, even lines on your torso that look like mini blinds | |
| And people could peep through, and view your vital organs anytime | |
| A psychic told me I won' t come into my prime, till I' m 129 | |
| I' ll lesson ya, body mass from flesh | |
| Into a watery a mist, and spray you out of can like air freshener | |
| I won' t have any problems, stopping ya | |
| The one man mafia that' s chopping ya, till I fillet ya like tallopia | |
| My glock spits, nero toxic hot bricks | |
| My synopsis make rocks split, block hits from unseen entities that I box with | |
| I hold a key like locksmiths, got Xray optics | |
| Grew thoughts I get, sit outside my knowledge pit cause they could not fit | |
| My virus too strong, to call off | |
| I could stand on one foot on a building ledge, in a strong wind and couldn' t fall off | |
| I spark the seas, that are hard to read | |
| I' m from a larger creed a Martian breed, that turns caution offers to quadriplede | |
| The strap cannibal, that rap fannels | |
| Like states on the Animal Channel, that traps mammals in the annals of my neck panel | |
| The dichotomy, my word logic locks you | |
| And stops you from breathing out, until the death angel adopts you | |
| You wanna have it, take a stab at it | |
| I' m avid about smashing your cabbage, at the specks of forensic lab fabric | |
| Impostors copy my logic, my body and knowledge | |
| To your body' s composite, from solid to liquid to gas and back to solid | |
| An apocalyptic, flame rips | |
| From my lips at insane clips, that strips fragment and many micro grains and brain chips | |
| I distribute facts, amongst ya | |
| The chiropractor, that replace needles with multiple axe in your back for acupuncture | |
| The inhabitant, of the labyrinth Babylon | |
| Paramount paragon, and ones we laid marathons with ninety pound batons | |
| And spark sun, cause I been hotter | |
| The Bin Laden sin plotter, that' ll beat your ghost out of you like a pi ata | |
| My information, level contagious | |
| Blazing abrasion, that had you phased with radiation like a chemo patient | |
| When average rappers, scavenge passion from attabance | |
| I ravage anatomy savage, and won' t even let the maggots have it | |
| Don' t try to draft the chapter, after me | |
| You' ll think you levitating but you' ll be actually, hanging rope defying gravity | |
| The word merchant, that squirt serpents with a flow pump | |
| Lyrically I' m the opposite of a hurt workman, cause I get' s no comp | |
| Your verses, are worthless | |
| My thirst is strong enough to cold Earth' s water, from the Earth' s inner core up to it' s surface | |
| I' ll leave a generation, birthless | |
| Carry hearses in other dimensions, while being nourished by the milk of shirtless nurses | |
| You quoting stuff, that ain' t potent enough | |
| I seen a ghost of the rhyme you wrote, leaving out of your rap folder holding floating up | |
| Like Ike I beat and bruise the mic, if I use it right | |
| You gon' lose tonight, and every pen you choose' ll go on strike and refuse to write | |
| I' m overseen, by wicked guardians | |
| With entity after every performance, and make me slaughter part of the audience | |
| I never finish a battle, one paragraph they blue | |
| Just like a phone number, most rappers dash half way through | |
| I designed the rhyme, my wits that I could of read at first | |
| I didn' t get a chance, people were screaming and giving me dap before I said the verse | |
| I' ll speak to your brain, and tremble it | |
| The skim of it I' ll dismember it, blow up the frame and let a baby reassemble it | |
| Skills that are doping em, with opium | |
| The trophy I' m accepting, while my victims head lay hopelessly on a podium | |
| talking: | |
| Go on say it dog say it, you cried huh | |
| nah, you so mad you cried right you did | |
| You did mayn, you cried | |
| Shit, you were mad then a motherfucker | |
| You cried nigga, you cried | |
| What did you do, to deserve that shit |
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