Head Punches

[Intro: K-Rino]
We gonna call this one Head Punches
But I guess at the end of the day it could pass for a Flow Session
Let's go

[Verse 1: K-Rino]
I turbo boost words that shoot, ripping your shirt loose
Your baby mama's bare feet look like work boots
The fire throat, not a guy that you should try and coach
My quotes are more terrifying than a flying roach
One punch gave that head about fifty knots
My shine is hard to block like Nowitzki's shot
If you was smart, you'd get out this place
Cause it's about to get ugly like Donatella Versace's face
They say that you one of the hardest but I beg to differ
I ain't impressed, you more trifling than a pregnant stripper
If K-Rino respond to garbage, I'll mow your lawn
You so boring you could make a dude in a coma yawn
It's been a while since I let my pen, break a folder
But like a dude who lost a hundred pounds, the wait is over
You're still young but you're flow older than Abe Vigoda
Smack you dead in the face with a case of soda
Man, it's ridiculous to ask you to come and rap
It's like the ventriloquist sitting on the dummies lap
Your skill will never come close to this
Plus my catalogue's longer than a section 8 grocery list
I'ma tryna teach you the game, hoping that you learn
You want my crown, let's go a round like two u-turns
You're feet ain't clean enough to run on my turf
You're house so filthy you could sweep the rug up under the dirt
It's time to mash so I'm attacking your pad, bro
My lines: so over your head like a bad 'fro
You wanna match, we can each drop 30 racks
And I'ma take you to the cleaners like some dirty slacks
I'm despised by these dishonourable guys
Plus I'm dangerous like raggedy-assed carnival rides
Everywhere I go, people wanna walk with me and trail a pro
But you're respect is so low that your yes-man even tell you no
I'll catch you, it don't matter where the Hell you go
It's funny cause these clowns is watered down and still fail to grow
See last year you was rocking the masses
Now you in HGB parking lot rounding up baskets
Meanwhile I'm lighting flames, your talent ain't quite the same
Your rap skills fell off worse than Tiger's game
Remain cool as I run a sharp pain through ya
I got so much game I'll sell your own brain to ya
I ain't forgot what you said, you gon' pay for your hatred
I'll take the air out of your chest like I play for the Patriots
I turn the heat high as it go, somewhere to burn worse
And put and L on you on you every day like Lavern shirts
I say a lot about myself but I can't say enough
Cause I'm so real they give me change before I pay for stuff
You on the internet, fronting and dissing like Man
But you just faking, that ain't you, you catfishing the fans
When I'm really fiending I open up a stranger's chest
I'll catch an airplane from South Park to Bangladesh
I pop domes for running your mouth, homes
And your son keep asking your wife how come you got a blouse on
I'm hanging every mic holder, 23 and older
I can't get high cause I'm addicted to being sober
Doing shows with K-Rino, you need rougher flows
Cause I'ma shut the building down like it ain't up to code
I stay snapping cause I know that keeps my fans happy
I'll sell African medallions at a Klan rally
All I see is a bunch of wannabe hot coons
Bouncing on the stage in Peter Pan costumes
I got a pack of mics for rappers who ain't acting right
And after I beat you to death I might just beat you back to life
I never lose my motivation out on these streets
I'm still hungry like 10 obese people splitting a three-piece
After I spit this, I'll have to murder the eyewitness
Some of the things I did ain't even none of my business
I'm in the rafters with hundred, fifty and twenty stackers
I don't take shit from no one like a friendly jacker
Your punk card I'll pull yours like a rip chord
While you roaching, I'm holding paper like a clipboard
You know I go hard in the paint till the track dies
So now you fronting like you got help on the back side
You run up on me then it's slumber time
You could never come behind K-Rino like 8 to the number 9

[Outro: K-Rino]
Like 8 to the number 9, yeah
Sniper, Lil C , K-Rino
We Makin' Enemies everywhere we go
I ran out of flow