Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Maniacal Manifesto, artist - K Rino. Album song Skillz Collection Vol. 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 10.06.2014
Record label: Black Book - SoSouth
Song language: English
Maniacal Manifesto |
Crowds gather in amazement as I’m lowered from the clouds |
I’m so artful it should be unlawful |
I record your life so I can fast-forward or pause you like DVR’s do |
The flawless grand martial |
Who imports volumes of thoughts from rap law school |
And gives you minutes to memorise what I’ve taught you |
I’m prolific, inventive, unlimited |
Demented and so intent with the sin of my pre-eminence I swim in it |
Fast as a light flash, I swing the mic past you and dash |
Leaving a gash in a meteorite mask |
Nuclear isotones in my microphones |
I use them for slicing stones |
And manufacturing Gaboon viper clones |
Extremities I cut those |
Juxtapose them in bowls |
Swallow your pieces then regurgitate you up hole |
I might resort to a cyber thought |
And taught you so extreme that your life support machine will need life support |
It’s the skill, the words, the pull that grabs you |
The sickness, the volume, the voice that stabs you |
The idea that broke through, forcefully provoked you |
Maniacal manifesto, the hand that chokes you |
You throw me off the podium? |
Please |
Folded MCs, I carry mic’s on a chain like custodian keys |
K-Rino don’t need herbal upliftment |
'Cus every night I’m delivered a different shipment of lethal verbal equipment |
Style impressive, wild and aggressive, issuing private lessons |
Teaching how to draw invisible person composite sketches |
Vivid as gold, keep delivering blows |
Until your brain is imposed, (?) by the bridge of your nose |
No vision, I think you need your eyes cleaned |
So I’m comprising a combination of gasoline and Vizine |
From the planet, the dumb are banished, I swung my hand |
And once it landed his stomach looked like the inside of a pomegranate |
Fact spitter, habitual hat splitter, more attacks than granulate in the sacks |
of cat litter |
I enter keys, printed out, then I leave |
Three thousand degrees vehement fevers when I sneeze |
I told your fans, I’m the coldest man |
I grow and then shrink you down to size |
And hold your clan in a Folgers can |
Nervous and strain, I’m like turbulent rain |
Serving your slang every two minutes interpreters change |
Perfectly trained, removable and re-insertable brain |
Air strikes with word flames make convertible planes |
My memory is so astoundingly cool |
That I can view a full pool |
And tell you next week if an ounce was removed |
I engrave rap’s under-weighed caps |
Plus every day I run around the equator for 108 laps |
After that, 100 cats I’ll bomb up |
Erase a whole population before the sun’s up and that’s just warm up |
Verses, you get bladed for just taking one |
My phrases penetrate your tongue like a battery powered staple gun |
And once the fun and backs complete |
I turn the same page over and it’s blank because I write on everlasting sheets |