[Cage - whispering]
|
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huhhhhh
|
Kill that cat.. watch me kill that cat
|
If it's your girl I'm lookin at
|
Then watch me kill that cat
|
|
[Verse One: Cage]
|
I hunt cunts like these, with underground disease
|
In they yearly matin spots, spawn a million MC's (got rhymes)
|
that used to go to shows, drink dance get high
|
Then you click the mic the whole audience wanna rhyme (yo let me rhyme let me rhyme)
|
In '92 I let the Cage outta Alex
|
Through college radio demonstrate the fist, fuck the love ballads
|
Summon demons in my ad libs, fun triplin
|
Vomit good shit, go feed off dead Christians
|
Red light in the Lincoln, from drinkin Drencrom
|
The corpse in my eye can explain the thinkin
|
While I lay behind a wall of flesh, engulfed by the homeless
|
If I escape, I might evaporate my whole state
|
Plus when Cage ripped in half on the concrete
|
Screamin, "That's my spirit running down the street!"
|
The undead, writin in gun lead
|
Liposuct' a fat bitch out her box with one hypo' jab
|
Inject tiger serum, I can't hear 'em (who?)
|
Alex with the fuckin loaded thirty-oh-two, cause
|
|
[Chorus: Cage]
|
This is for the whores, and the kicked over stores
|
And fifty-four dollars in my pocket on tour
|
This is for the kid that said, "Oh you dead!"
|
And the fifty-four stitches that he caught in his head
|
This is for the clowns I beat with no hands
|
And the two O-Z's down to fifty-four grams
|
With two to the face, I'm a basket face
|
With fifty-four seconds to outer space
|
|
[Cage]
|
I love a bull mastiff ground up, make a pound up
|
With green Jesus, get in I'll drive you to seizures
|
Humanoid pause, before God, with cyborg dogs after me
|
Killin these rhymin Sigmund Freuds - for the cause
|
Your whole life's a waitin room for worms
|
Strangest occurs, you see Venus in furs
|
With toast out facin Earth, avenge my sixteen
|
Your old shell talk to pistols like Starscream
|
My whole story lost on a wall in black marker
|
66 more flicks for Clive Barker
|
With a little message, for real research kids
|
Can you guess who the faggot DJ is?
|
My anti-commercial style will curse you
|
Say fuck so much, my airplay's like curfew
|
To third shift farm chemists, the senate scarred
|
Start killin all the livin like the Serbian guards
|
You supportin communism buyin majors so dub
|
Watch me put two rocks in Kurt Loder head, whassup
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
{*Mighty Mi scratches*}
|
The undead.. red light in the Lincoln
|
For Cage.. ripped.. in half on the concrete
|
Screamin, "That's my spirit runnin down the street!"
|
Runnin down the street.. runnin d... down the street
|
|
-----------------
|
54
|
| Smut Peddlers |
