| While you wet clothes and fake your pimp mode
|
| I’m gathering chemical info on how to make your neck lymph nodes implode
|
| When I go home, I bathe in ozone
|
| Take my microphone and crush your dome like ice and slurp it like a snow-cone
|
| I spark a shot at those who talk a lot
|
| Put garbage rappers on a murder auction block until the coffin plot market’s hot
|
| All my lines are so unorthodox, they entered you like carbon monox'
|
| And you’ll be still alive while your carcass rots
|
| The sickest dude you’ll ever hate
|
| I elevate and raise the bar as if I was making a nightclub levitate
|
| You’ll never be the one like seven-eighths
|
| I’ll become irate and strap you to a tailgate, then drag you through eleven
|
| states
|
| Emcees scorched with a million degree torch
|
| Your thoughts are small enough to fit them all in a flea’s corpse
|
| Your rap image got resemblance to a lesbian broad
|
| You looked the part, you flipped your tongue but you can never get hard
|
| I stay in the mode and steam-rolled right over my foes
|
| I’m on the stage ripping up shows in a Doberman pose
|
| My flow is errorless, to withstand the test you need a better vest
|
| I’m never stressed and always starting shit like the letter 'S'
|
| Unanimously denied your amnesty
|
| At your reunion I handedly mopped your family under the canopy
|
| I start and run upon ya with a sharp persona
|
| Target you in the farthest part of Venus hiding in a closet in the darkest
|
| corner
|
| Equipped with a flame that will rip through a train
|
| Scriptural gain pointing at you with centripetal aim
|
| The antithesis of the word 'insane' bleeding disdain
|
| What I inflict is beyond torture, you’ll be pleading for pain
|
| Murder juice is what my thirst produces
|
| In gestation of these exclusives leave you heathens steaming green mucus
|
| Atrocities hit and stop ya nine bodily systems
|
| You’ll get gutted out like jail house sodomy victims
|
| Pay dues, my rep is huge, you set new records for skill ineptitude
|
| Methods I use reduce decrepit crews to residue
|
| Exposing fools, my words are valuable like stolen jewels
|
| Your flows are used, you turn them back in when you use 'em like bowling shoes
|
| Maniacal fiend that seething for green
|
| Put cyanide in an asthmatic rapper’s breathing machine
|
| My omnipotent ambiance will turn a room blue
|
| 1% of me inside of a 100% of you over consumes you
|
| Delivering barbedwire whipping discipline
|
| Backspin the remnants of your non-existence, ten dimensions past oblivion
|
| I mastered wizardry during my infancy, I’ll blink and instantly
|
| Remove you from the archives of living memory
|
| Soaring above the Earth’s flooring, I’m orbiting
|
| Foraging through scorching unseen dark matter specs exploring the origins
|
| The impact of my most average raps will fracture your scapula
|
| Drain the sap from your cardiovascular with a catheter
|
| Technology in my mind exceeds the current time
|
| Like somebody using an iPod in 1689
|
| You should know there be no decoding my poetry
|
| My opponents keep coming slower than rolling three lines on a rotary
|
| The one man genealogy, my bloodline’s author
|
| I’m myself, my future offspring and my own grandfather
|
| The laborer, the great outerspace phrase caterer
|
| Nuclear wave raider, sabre-tooth hater disabler
|
| The solar rollerblader, I skated across craters
|
| State of the art debater, thoughts integrated with Darth Vader
|
| In victories I’ll never get enough, my sick degrees will rip you up
|
| And leave a gash so critical that I’ll have to zip you up
|
| He killed himself because to face me is double
|
| He knew my schedule was busy so he saved me the trouble
|
| If you mad I’m not the one you should blast on
|
| Listen I’m so twisted that under my real face I got a mask on |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Barbedwire Discipline , by - K Rino. Song from the album Solitary Confinement, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп