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just incase - dna tru lyricist lyrics

[intro]
do i know you?
no, no, but you doubted me
i’m sorry, i have to go
no need to leave yet
but i’m late
you are not content with the stories
so i was obliged to come
be my victim

[verse 1]
just in case, i gotta rip off they face
hate to wait, treble base, mental case
twisted metal sh*ll cases in they faces
leave bodies up in the bas*m*nt
the old me’s been aching to rape em
leave em blood caped on the wall
your gangster just ain’t that intimidating
give a f*ck what you indicating
with your faking sin sensations
so you better back it up, and get the f*ck up off me
this the ripgutology 5 murder scene, it gets sloppy
putting bodies on some red ice like running scared hockey
have you running low on ink, b*tch, so don’t dare copy
they can’t top me, i’m the motherf*cking dna tru lyricist
you got that? copy, over and out, b*tch
i’ma lower the doubt
when i’m lowering my b*lls off in your spouse mouth
saw your b*lls off, what you ’bout now?
you ain’t about to hold it in, i saw it off
out loud, b*tch, i woke up well*rested
you coronavirus*infected
but that ain’t impressive, the virus i spit is infectious
anaconda your neck and hannibal lec’, brains breakfast
i am reckless with insane flames reaching the [?] nasty contained message
i’m airing this track out like jamie bestwick
i’m the realer godzilla, i’ll fold you up like [?] tetris
then after that, i’m eating a human anatomy [?]
godd*mn, maybe i should stop lyrically flexing, but f*ck that
this ripgutology, rip off your n*ts*ck
your ripguts follow your n*ts*ck, you ain’t never gon’ get your guts back
and that might be the most ripgut sh*t that i ever busted
there’s no words from any lips, from any b*tch i ever trusted
witness an art form, something that you ain’t got the heart for
kinda like undiscovered dark web hard p*rn, or a harpoon
and you can’t see me like a dark room
like up in the theater when the movie’s bout to start soon
yeah i had to bring it back, but f*ck it, it’s mine
didn’t think i’d rip guts again, but f*ck it, it’s time
so come on, come on, join in, you’ll probably be fine
now i’d like to welcome you all to ripgutology 5
it’s a little darker than the rest of them, but i don’t really give a f*ck
no, i don’t really give a f*ck if it’s a little inappropriate
grab the p*ssy; open it, insert an opiate
i hope she gets a little f*cked up in my truck beside me
but i don’t jam the radio, baby
the sh*t i jam is known to make the radio hate me
yeah, it’s known to make these fake gangsters walk off lately
and scare the hearts out the chests of these little old ladies
it’s known to make these lil pumps turn they sh*t down
it’s known to expose lil pumps and bring they b*tch out
it’s the dna tru lyricist spitting that ripstyle
hitting them all dead and then spear it with sick bile
twisted lyricism, b*tch, you thinking i’m playing?
i ain’t playing with y’all, motherf*ckers bodies decaying
and i’ll probably get famous, this sh*t’s pretty obvious, ain’t it?
and i was taught to contain this but i just can’t stop this arranged spit
i’m godly, you’re the lamest and i’m sorry if i pull a heinous act
like sn*tching your broad and sticking a rod in her *n*s till she fainted
but this ain’t for the faint of heart, this ripgutology ain’t painless
and there’s no lube on the barrel when i’m f*cking with you with the stainless
motherf*cker
sh*t ain’t over
[interlude]
i am the writing on the wall, the whisper in the classroom
without these things, i am nothing
so now, i must shed innocent blood
be my victim

[verse 2]
come with me, be my victim
when i start to chop it up, i promise i’ma sick em
they don’t really wanna get it started with the cold*hearted hitman
pen to the page henchman, i’ll lynch them hands
be hitting them repetitively, they better leave or i’ma be up in their sh*t like ip man
ripgutology 5, i drop hits when i tackle the track like nfl blitz
and i’m in that b*tch, one of the most psychotic lyrical choppers you meant to diss
but when you mention this name
you catch chills that rise up your spine and then heat up your brain
you know there’s never gonna be another motherf*cker that’ll run up in the motherf*cking game
i’m out of your range, it’s plain and clear to see you can’t sustain or bring [?]
no vegan flows, i eat your toes cause he like meat
a fan again in my dm be worshipping cause he like me
and haters still talking but every one that be knocking my craft
there’s fifty more showing love back and i got em
i drop that ripsta sh*t, ripgutology, it’s the sick spit psychology
i hope you know that my psychosis is ferocious ‘rithmetic
catch the kick from the hoof of a mythic horse, of course i get my [?]
that p*ssy tight but it’s alright, i bet you i can fit my fist
in it from the wrist to the elbow, b*tch
where you going? h*ll no, b*tch, get used to this
heated necklace charm i place upon your cl*t
press it down and let it sizzle, remove the upside*down crucifix
use my tongue to cool it off, now let em all know who’s the sickest of them all
mirror mirror on the wall, i got a call
i heard my name said five times, it’s time to gut em all
this ain’t the candyman, b*tch, it’s dna
i keep the lyrics handy man, b*tch, you bout to see your fate
and i don’t be giving a shea*i*it though about your b*i*itch flow
this ain’t no jordan peele, silly, this the original candyman
about to hand you my honey*covered hand
use my hook to cut em, the honey*covered hand
dna or the candyman? i don’t know which one i am
so i mention em both just in case
you’re the one cause i take your place, it’s ripgutology 5
your guts are blended into a soup in a waterproof suitcase
you fake motherf*ckers are about to let me find out what the human skin soup taste
[?] give your b*tch this bondage [?]
the end i’ma making her sh*t, right
be sure that the clamps on her tits tight
electric pad on her cl*t, right
to the lyrics, better get right
i got a lot of meat to stock so sit in the hospital seat and sit tight
i’ll get right back witcha, this b*tch got a slit mouth and i’ma [?]
with more blades than krueger and jason combined, you can call me the [?]
[?] so while i’m gone parting her
i won’t be long, i’ll be right back returning with more things than john carpenter
just in case you forgot who the f*ck i am
i’m dna tru lyricist, b*tch
no rapper, no man that can compete with me
i’m eating they face off easily
remember the next time you teasing me
remember these lyrics, i bleed for these
the ripgutology alchemy master, so count on me
never be counting me out of the gunning these wannabe rappers with lyrical headshots
the .50 caliber bullets leaving the sniper rifle and taking their heads off
i’ma head off, or better yet head out like jack crow
leaving the [?] motel with a trash bag of their heads (i’m out)

- dna tru lyricist lyrics

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