Wicked Land - K Rino

Before your mug turns, execution of slug perms

Thugs yearn for the status in money that drugs earn

Boys love searn, mission to stay above worms

For the bread, chicks stay on they knees like rug burns

We don’t tell jokes, better boat when ya smell smoke

We illiterate hustlers we can’t even spell broke

Youngstas sell dope and contribute to jail growth

Snitches tell folks who working ending up in twelve votes

Killas rush through, barricades that touch you

Bullets crush you and persecute before bust you

You’ll be sub-earthly, went to court and the judge search me

They don’t love mercy;

cops are racist and blood thirsty

They submit plans, hustlers get around like wristbands

You ain’t gotta pay a hit man seventy-six grand

In a big chance you better be slick with quick hands

And try’na never sell a stand by the fan where the ship lands

From the time the sunrise they devise no good

If you a G then I know I just described yo hood

If you not better watch where your drive or stand

Or mess around and make a wrong turn in the wicked land

When the war grows, more soul get foreclosed

Cats are hard nose;

killas stay armed like torsos

Cars blow, up in into spark modes of charcoal

Narks roll through and beat up youngsta’s on dark roads

Crammin try and grab thieves framing you finding scaps

Cadavers on slabs being an examined in crime labs (yeah)

And every picture the portraits a mad man

Torturous bad man with corpses in trash cans

Boy you Mr. Clean, plus you greener than Listerine

You ain’t live to see the wicked extremes the pistol brings

Houses fit for kings, bosses who have you kissing rings

Explicit things the victims be hoping that it’s a dream

But as sure as I’m rapping, this ain’t no tourist attraction

The impurest of actions crafted by hooded assassins

A mob target, they’ll spark it in his apartment

Wife and daughter get home they’ll be walking the red carpet

From the time the sunrise they devise no good

If you a G then I know I just described yo hood

If you not better watch where your drive or stand

Or mess around and make a wrong turn in the wicked land

We take hearts, and vacation in Saint Barts

Breaking bank faults, we so wicked we shank thoughts

See we fire straps, ammo try’na to frier cams

Iron claps on the crying rath wearing wire taps

Straight raw foes, high weapons inside clothes

Can’t describe those, three shots but five holes

Chasing pesos fools auction in they souls

Try’na make doe, we got judges on payrolls

Got the cerve famous, specializing in bird maintenance

We serve daily stellify ducking the surveillance

Pink shirt rippers, the enemy hersh flippers

Better work with us, tricks try’na converse strippers

Worldwide anthems, we too rugged to ride fathoms

Haters dying, cramping, killers hiding inside mansions

Then a slaughter move, you ain’t leaving you outta dude

Will expose the intestinal fortitude part of you, yeah

Yeah

Ya boy K-Rino

This goes out to every ghetto every hood in the world

Shoutout to my homie the Re-Up Entertainment

Third Ward

Erowid Homes

Shoutout to the Brick Boyz, South Park, Fifth Ward

Vice Lords, G’s, B’s & C’s, the VA’s

Canna Court, Sterling Wood, Southeast