Gotcha Name on a Bullet - K Rino

Ay, Dilemma ain’t here but she here in spirit

I’ma just leave so y’all do whatever y’all wanna do

I’m out, holla

Buck buck, we just pulled the motherfucking microphone

Your name was on a bullet, now it’s in your dome

That’s like mind-blown, so my thoughts turn deep

interrupting my sleep

Oh shit,, they try to make me go crazy

But I can’t get caught slipping because these hoes got to fade me

, a ghetto packing a Tec

If you step, I got to wreck, it’s all a fucking complex

I flex my hand in my Dickies, reaching for my gat

Pull the trigger to your dome, stop you dead in your tracks

Homicide, homicide, paranoid

Death in my eyes, you wonder why I yell

My penmanship contains high tech grammar

Gifted from birth so therefore I will land the

Rhyme like a jet down the runway, here I come

Time to launch and land, burst off and expaaaaansion

It’s fun when done right

Suckers need to learn how to write, don’t bite

Me, I’m talking to the light, not the black, still in fact

It’s the black crews that we crack

No rules, paid dues, like those skills, I’m still at it

Dope holocaust, the musical scientist, rap addict

It really don’t matter when suckers start tripping

I put in the clip of my 9

My mouth be flapping and yapping just like I’m busting caps ‘

I half a brain covered with razor blades

But that ain’t shit, you bet your death when I came back and hit it

Mmmm, you got me me pissed off, why would you call my shit soft?

Snatched the mic so hard I ripped your motherfucking wrist off

I summon thunderstorms from the flow I’m feeling

Property damages, estimated at about twenty million a piece

The beast within release the sun

Rose in the west, but followed me traveling east

Metaphysical, me and my brain indivisible

my body inside my soul so that makes me invisible

, I can take the punches, but hell it don’t hurt as bad as

Section A forever, kicking that crazy shit

Real locs from the street, police couldn’t fade me, bitch

Down with the Ace man and the (*Rah!*) E-y-q-u-e

So if you bumping your gums, I have to do you, G

So look out, when K-rino pull them Black Book out

Wooh, now that’s a fire, fuck it, let’s throw a cookout

So what’s it gonna be, mesquite or hickory?

Put these nuts on sucker’s chin so you know where my dick’ll be

Nowhere to run, I got your name on a bullet

The beam is placed on your forehead so just relax when I pull it

DBX with the dope lyrics, come get a fix

But if you step ‘cause you done stepped in some shit

Uhhhhh, so many ways to execute

Blindfold yourself, Ruff Eyque is about to shoot

You don’t wanna witness this mass murderer

The shit I shoot, the blast will hurt at ya

Eat your earplugs, gargle and hard hat

Time to put in some work, I never parted that

What’s his name?

Mike, Joe or Fred

When you find him, paramedics gonna call him dead

Somebody please come and verify his remains

Whatever he experienced, he was terrified and deranged

Used to be the blood clot, Eyque go all out

Them bullets touch your ass, you go «ooh ooh hot, ooh ooh hot»

Here comes the Brain

Here comes the Brain

Here comes the Brain

Here comes the Brain

Neurotic, psychotic, brain dead, sagely insane, deranged

Step forward strange in the mental

Asylum

Listen close, you hear that soul screaming?

What lies within is unknown but the black holes is leaving

There’ll be no more that remains just a few corpses and carcasses

eternal darkness

Like a spell they been cast last, thrashed with

Mutilated, devastated, terminator’s annihilation’s completed

Into the realm of death, proceed with caution, the danger

You chose to step into my mind, into the torture chamber

This be me, the nigga Lee

Down with the group known as the SPC

Niggas didn’t know I was down with ‘em

Now I’ma clown with ‘em

So let me fuck around with ‘em and bust a fucking sound with ‘em

It’s time for me to pop joints and cop punks

And stop ones that throw my lyrics hard enough to drop punks

Weak shit, hella you’ll save that shit for the pigeons

Some say I can’t flow, well here’s a motherfucking smidgen

When I sit down, I get down with riff sound

Ah this sound is so crunk, that I aim to

So who’s the nigga with the trigger so pull it

So buck ‘em, fuck ‘em, your name’s on a bullet

Psychotic son of a bitch, a motherfucker without a mind

Hey niggas will be dying as long as I got a 9

Zero, ya Kevin King, that be my nigga from the heart

Kevin King, you been my brother, been down from the start

K-Rino, they don’t know who I am

Suspect from Pearl Homes, I never gave a damn

I put it like this, I like to fuck but not to be fucked with

Niggas be getting bucked, bitch, running up with that punk shit

Yo, so if you wanna fuck with me

You’ll be fucking with that SPC

Huh, and you don’t wanna step

I got your name on a bullet and that bullet equals death

I got your name on a bullet, bitch

I ain’t forgot that shit you said, nigga, you’s a snitch

See I chores it and life goes on

So feel good you wasn’t victim to my chrome

But don’t celebrate, my mind state ain’t settled

‘cause after you might meet the devil

So that’s just a taste

In our heart, it ain’t shit for your punk ass life to waste

Blood coming out your pore

Fucking with me, you never know what’s in store

Dealing with me, the X-Man who’s known to check a bitch

1−87, fuck a snitch

Y’all fools, boy, ay, I got nine more to go though, so y’all don’t go nowhere,

y’all sit and listen to this song

Grimm’s got you

Running but you got yourself off in this mess

The shots of an SKS

Get hot with ‘em in your flesh

But what were you thinking at first?

That you finna kick a verse?

I, that’ll make the matter worse ‘cause

What I wanna know is if you the real deal

Looking like you couldn’t when the brown boy got your grill peeled

Coming up with some of that weekend you can’t quit

Shoulda been no blunder, but instead your dead pero

The big nigga, 285, 6'1''

Grudges been made, while lot of grudges been broke by Murder One

, weighs a ton

I’m sipping on, I’m knocking hoes out one by one

Ain’t no love, bitch, trust that, little trust

Therefore I’m for the next nigga bust

A cap on a young brother, making him take a long nap

Laying on his back, miss his family,

Perhaps Murder One the wrong man to look up to

Take care of your business, damn fool, and do what you gotta do

Now your name’s on a bullet

So step up, motherfucker, and watch a big nigga pull it

That motherfucker, Klondike Kat, gives birth to a verse

The fetus is from the elitist, no one will beat us

Some may even attempt to repeat us, but they’re just turkeys

Gobbling in the being of some blood thirsty cheetahs

Speaking of blood thirsty

Kick down your door, bust two in your bitch

And then demand what you’re worth key

MF be setting the roadblocks and obstacles

Can’t see my verbal attack from the blind side ‘cause I’m a

The lighter shake and fitted for graves from the styles I made

One swing of my blade left with a headless fade

John Doe’s engraved on every hollow point in the 4−4

Trigger-gram at your front door with your name on the bullet hole

Slash, crossed the ass of the hollow

‘cause Devil, I ain’t gon' spend your, my name ain’t no Rallo

I’ma follow your punk ass to the death of this murder lead

So nigga please beware Tech-9's coming like a death prayer

So you best be coming to even the score and kill me, bitch

‘cause when I can store a few tricks it’s on some shit to tongue-twist

Get fixed, hole that shit, feel you wanna click, just wait

‘cause you might just fuck around and slip out the hands of Allstate

The Tech-9, bitch, I’m long from a ranger, hoe

Step up, get teched up, I’m a gun-slinging Tonto so

10−4, get buddies, holla at your

Tech-9, that nigga under siege, SPC

lifer, the type of nigga that just don’t give a fuck

So if I gotta buck, I’m gotta buck ya with my 9 mm

And you know I won’t miss

Two shots in your dome, fuck aiming for your

It’s your boy Black, I ain’t no motherfucking punk so

Nigga, where your gun?

I see you heading for your trunk

I’m steady hitting them backstreets to keep my paper stacked

Slanging big crack and hittin' them 2−11 jacks, so

Have you ever heard of a killer

The aggravated fool plus that unknown cap-peeler?

Add the shit up ‘cause I’m ruthless in this game

And I’m up for parole, that’s why this bullet got your name, bitch

son as I take you through the depths of hell

Adventure through the park where real niggas dwell

Take a look into a scope, I see you’re blurry

Take a and then I focus

Many are chosen but only very few survive

You can’t see and do not get

Keep and you’ll witness your own death

Or you become a statistic on one shelf

It’s that third point draft pick, the psycho fanatic

Hearing my voice on another dope track, shit

I’m constantly active, I will not be

Niggas in my hood asking me to lick a shot

So I’ma pull the trigger 'til I see some bodies drop

Another bloody sucker added to the murder scene

Another empty clip from the Glock 19

I’m having thoughts of motherfucking homicidal action

Never leaving the house without my gat ‘cause I be jacking

You said you wanted folks so my niggas came with it

A multitude of shots left his wig all splitted

So now I’m on the run for a motherfucking murder

‘cause leaving the house without my gat is something that’s unheard of

I’m coming from the streets of H-o-u-s-t-o-n

Braking niggas in half as I blast with this MAC-10

Now I’m waking up in the morning thinking about the shit I’ma do today

Will I live to see another day?

I grab my AK

And headed out the door, these bitches cannot trick the

Motherfucking thug with the

Now I’m up the street, doing my thang, selling my ‘caine

I never wanted to because I’m loyal to the game

Kicking the funky shit with my motherfucking niggas

You step on my Vans, you’re making me mad, I turn into a killa

Nothing but a murder murder, nigga, that’s what I said

Chrome into your dome and with the light that’s infrared

See I put you in the ground and

And taking the people back to this earth

It ain’t the way I walk or how I talk that’s bugging me

It ain’t the way that I be looking upon society

It’s just them little surviving, boastings talking in my head

Won’t come in equipped with brick, don’t slip in keeping my family fed

I never be giving a fuck, pumping your ass with this 9

But I make you understand a ass man defended mine

My usually pistol packing watching the blood spill

‘cause I need hot meals, and who gon' pay my bills?

So what’chu gon' do?

It’s my weekly when I been down too long

Insane in the membrane, grab my nuts and my mind is long gone

It’s, that nigga that never gave a fuck with this Glock and uh

I’m the one that’ll fuck you up in your talk so uh

You better be moving

When I’m coming equipped with the pistol grip and the uzi

Never be giving a fuck, if I got my Glock, then I’ma use it

Empty the clip, I’m creeping up, throwing my sign ‘cause I’m a Hoover

Heard you were flipping and dipping them squares, I’m fried about this doobie

I’ll be damned if I don’t get this nigga full with music

Bubble my quake and taking shit, his name is on my bullet

Bah bah bah!

SPC in the house forever, ah aaaa

All praises due to Allah

Peace