| The depths of my Black Book equals an ocean
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| Strong verbal aggressor with the pacifist notion
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| Plans I devise to uprise and lift
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| Scams I despise corrupt lives and riff
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| Never inept, never slept, never need a gun
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| Followers fake because I’m making their leader run
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| Deep on the topic but never posed as a prophet
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| Concepts kick through common sense, so I drop it
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| Misunderstood cause I’m far from generic
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| Categorised as lethal legend of a lyric
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| You should abide to the rule that apply to
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| Your crew as I guide with side one and side two
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| But even with that, these suckers constantly ride me
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| Flipping my LP in search of a Side 3
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| '90 is through, I’m crushing you and your tiny scores
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| Slapped you through '93, be there to catch you in '94
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| Thoughts in my head backed up like traffic
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| Rap book plastic, memory photographic
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| The unachievable to me is none believable
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| Cause what can’t be achieved by K is non conceivable
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| Able to reach by reality or blind faith
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| Be it concrete, abstract or a mind state
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| Total separation of thoughts avoid collisions
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| Mental incisions create sub-divisions
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| Of my brain which allowed me to demonstrate the know how
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| Busting through a wack life crew like a snow plough
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| Mic is a sword, rhythm rap book my shield
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| While you’re sweating to hold nine yards, trick 'em down field
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| Never letting my head get boosted
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| The whole damn album, K and Dope produced it
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| I take a malnourished beat and feed it
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| Break out the ice cream and milk, I need it
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| Kick
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| War on the microphone, choose your weapon ah
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| War on the microphone, choose your weapon ah
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| War on the microphone, choose your weapon ah
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| Five element’s life, health, strength, mind and deepness
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| Memorise what I emphasise, don’t sweep this
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| Under the rug cause it’ll lump up
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| Vocal combinations translated into two words: Jump Up
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| Information I’m consuming is looming
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| In me cause ain’t enough room in the brain of a normal human
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| Thoughts bionic, twice as potent as gin and tonic
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| Psychological booms are sonic, brain tumours are chronic
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| The administrator, hit a later, proper waiter flow
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| Call K the bloodstream contaminator
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| Pay the cost of dissing while I flex my dialects
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| Equivalent to ten train wrecks in emcees necks
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| Lyrical touches expose your two equipments, such as
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| Wheelchairs, respirators, IVs and crutches
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| Definition I’m the main black you aimed at
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| Sent a thousand suckers, not one of them came back
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| All opposition alluded me, excluded me
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| From rhyming activity thinking they executed me
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| But K is the prodigy giving punks a lobotomy
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| Once received an apology from a bullet that shot at me
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| I’m breaking up pieces, high priest of a thesis
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| Voice range releases, death rate increases
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| Feel a diss, the realist swings with a killer fist
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| Never missed when pissed, mercenary ventriloquist
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| No re-enactment it’s actual battery
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| Glad to be the highest majesty of a tragedy
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| Poetically socialised, mobilised, I’m noble wise
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| Double my size, I’ll visualise through a thousand eyes
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| Give me room to stick, you’ll be who I’m soon to pick
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| Sign language communicating bulletproof lunatic
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| Artillery room stocked with weaponry
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| Those who step at me are stabbed to death with mental telepathy
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| You face the ace lyrical high speed chase
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| Erase one who fabricates, corruptiveness I embrace
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| The free worded overexerted, overruler of verdicts
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| Suckers flirted and found out that lyrics hurted
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| Yo, any game is a fair game
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| Tie me up and drop me in a live volcano from an airplane
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| Yo, and I’ll live to untangle, return to strangle
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| And square off the Bermuda Triangle
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| Yo, vocalism creates a prism
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| Tactician of demolition, breaker of ambition
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| Title snatcher conflict, catcher K-Rino is a cat
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| Certain attack, you want your tongue, I’ll mail it back
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| War on the microphone, choose your weapon ah
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| War on the microphone, choose your weapon ah
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| Them picking an axe, them picking a stick and they hit 47
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| But me weapon is me tongue, me critical radical lyrical gun
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| Make a verse with one million and make critical styles
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| K-Rino me I’m the Father and me Black Book the child
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| I’m bringing the dominant lyrical legacy
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| Making the melodramatic vocalists bite the dust man
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| It’s critical quick to call man |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Choose Ya Weapon, artist - K Rino. Album song Stories From The Black Book, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп