|
...Yo, Yo
|
Uh...huh, uh...huh, uh...huhhh
|
Kill that cat, Watch me kill that cat
|
If it's your girl im lookin' at, watch me kil that
|
cat...
|
|
[Cage]
|
I hunt cunts like these, with underground disease
|
And the yearly matin' spots, spawnin' million emcees
|
They used to go to shows drink, dance, get high
|
Then you click the Mic, the whole audience wanna rhyme
|
In ninety-two, I let the cage outta Alex, through
|
college radio
|
Demonstrate the fist, fuck the love ballads
|
Summon demons in my ad-libs, tongue trickling
|
Vomit good shit, go feed off dead Christians
|
Red light in the lincoln, from drinking drencrome
|
The corpse in my eye can explain the thinking
|
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
|
Screaming "that's my spirit running down the street"
|
The undead, writing the gun lead
|
Lypo-suck the fat bitch outta box with one hypo jab
|
Inject tiger-serum, I can't hear em'..."who?"
|
Alex with the fuckin' loaded 30-0-2
|
...cause
|
|
Chorus: Cage
|
|
This is for the whores, and the kicked over stores
|
And 54 dollars in my pocket on tour
|
This is for the kid that said "oh you dead"
|
And the 54 stitches that caught in his head
|
This is for the clowns I beef with no hands
|
And the two O-Z's down to 54 grams
|
With two to the face, I'm a basket face
|
With 54 seconds to outer space
|
|
[Cage]
|
I love a bull mastif, ground up, make him pound up
|
With green Jesus, get in, I'll drive you to seizures
|
Humanoid pause, before god, with cyborg dogs, after me
|
Killin' the rhymin' Sigmund Freuds
|
For the cause, your whole life's a waiting room for worms
|
Strangest occurs, you see Venus in furs
|
With toast out, facing earth, avenge my sixteen
|
Year old shell, talk to pistols like star scream
|
My whole story lost on a wall in black marker
|
Sixty-six more flicks for Clyde 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 senates scarred
|
Start killing all the living like a serbian gods
|
You supporting communism buying major's, so dub
|
Watch me put two rocks in Kurt loaders head, for sub
|
|
Chorus: Cage
|
|
This is for the whores, and the kicked over stores
|
And 54 dollars in my pocket on tour
|
This is for the kid that said oh you dead
|
And the 54 stitches that caught in his head
|
This is for the clowns I beef wit' with no hands
|
And the two O-Z's down to 54 grams
|
With two to the face, I'm a basket face
|
With 54 seconds to outer space
|
|
[FADE OUT]
|
|
|
-----------------
|
54
|
Cage |