Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Zero Gravity, 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
Zero Gravity |
Keep going up, keep going up |
Lets see if we can do it, man, let’s see, watch |
Tramp MCs, I turn into amputees, you ramming these fantasies |
While I’m making cameras freeze, rapping in amber knees |
Electricity couldn’t stand with me |
So light spurts randomly land on my hand when I write and service lamps for me |
Instantly my pen or my pencil be overcome with the propensity |
To spin for three hours, building up energy |
Infantries are crushed by the density |
What interests me is relentlessly practicing tying my shoes mentally |
My altitude and vision is exceptional |
I can see every section through my special multidirectional spectacles |
I keep intestinals as collectibles, plus the damage is irreparable |
Then once I wreck you right there’s nothing left of you |
In each place of my conscious state I freebase |
And walk around with half of deep space inside a briefcase |
I outrace these snakes in three shakes |
And breeze past MC fakes easy wearing a concrete-based knee brace |
The massive wrath of me in its totality is packed with accuracy |
And rap daggers that’s flabbergasted your faculty |
The rap he had for me was a travesty |
And actually it’s sad ‘cause he was not the first to never see the last of me |
My monograph’s forcasted bombastically |
The one man staff that had the pain that he was in screaming in agony |
I’m manufacturing sadness happily and mind-lifting gravity |
While sipping on a gasoline daiquiri |
Powerful tracks compacted with hours of facts |
Defied logic when I snatched myself up out of a hat |
You won’t win, incompetent men I’m stomping again |
I didn’t drown in the quicksand, it sunk in my skin |
I can straight create a verse 'til the paper hurts |
Everyday eliminate the time you wake just to purposely make you late for work |
I’m blasting this guy with a classic reply |
My flames are strange, you don’t feel ‘em burn 'til after you die |
We had to be fast in my PE class |
Our feet had speed blast that we used to play overseas freeze tag |
I crash into accidents, smashed ribs |
Don’t exit tracks all at once, I’m dropping lead vocals, backs and ad-libs |
I’m opening wounds and smokin' ya goons |
My pictures don’t hang on the wall, they float in the room |
I rest and summon my best 'til your lung is compressed |
Dressed in a built-in bulletproof vest up under my flesh |
The red rum will quickly come and leak from thee |
And even if I wasn’t who I was, I would practice 'til I become me |
Come in my office and talk with the grand exalted |
My brain seven story walk-in closet |
My greatest flow is to come, twenty rolled into one |
Vocals I run are cold enough to make it snow on the Sun |
The mic’s gravity snatches me like magnets attracting me |
My cameras be bright enough to illuminate galaxies |
I force clowns to wrap up in corpse shrouds |
My voice is loud enough to stand on my porch and be heard on the Oort cloud |
My sound growled 'til the whole town bowed |
The crowds don’t gather around me, I gather around crowds |
My stats be like that of a great athlete |
Put me on a pitch black street with a pack of crack fiends hoping to jack me |
Or the backseat of a runaway taxi full of rats with bad teeth |
Tryna attack me and it still wouldn’t distract me |
I deliver a rap then I’ll give you a slap |
Across your cap, that’s so exact it makes your fibula snap |
See I respond to ya by puncturing your cornea |
Abnormal mental formulas confusing like dreaming you got insomnia |
These rotten vipers want a title shot, it’s not every night I jot |
But I’m more creative than a lot of y’all with writer’s block |
My seven senses uplifted |
So gifted that even my repetition is different |
I around the Earth great |
My elevator goes straight to the ninth floor without passing the first eight |
I lit up the whole night with a speck of light |
And set records by having fans recite complex lines that I’m yet to write |
Facing K, that’s disintegration |
I’ll chase your next life back to this one and then I switch ‘em, |
backwards reincarnation |
I’m breaking great time barrier records |
By magically living 700 minutes per second |
Talent heaven sent so I’m evicting the evil resident |
I travel at F-111 speed when I’m hesitant |
Spoke ferocious opuses at horrible doses |
Post hypnotic suggestions before the hypnosis |
I provide a dope vocal kaleidoscope, you hopelessly choke when I tie the rope |
Even when I’m sleeping, I’m wide awoke |
I hold a slew of new poems, dude |
I wrote a few to show and prove so I’m underhandedly overthrowing you |
I’m not a model, you volatile, I throttle |
So hostile I make painkillers holler through the bottle |
Can’t topple my knowledge if daily you swallowed you a novel |
I’m philosophical but I don’t follow Aristotle |
Please don’t be on the street when the heat come |
23 vehicles rolling up with me at the wheel of each one |
I leap from thought with a deep plunge |
I pick out your weak lung and run a straw through it like a Capri Sun |
Peep the secretive mystique, he writes albums in his sleep |
He completed at least eleven this week |
His little scheme was negated |
‘cause I had already premeditated the plans to the plan that he premeditated |
Standing on a lyrical landscape |
Jumping from outer space feet first, hoping to pancake a man’s face |
Plus my handshakes make hands break, crumble like bran flakes |
It only takes 3 shots to kill your fanbase |