Lyrics 54 - Cage

54

Yo… Yo, Uh Huh… uh, Huh… uh, Huhhh… Kill
that cat Watch, me kill that cat If it’s your girl I’m lookin' at watch, me kil that Cat
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 f, k**the love ballads Summon
demons in my ad-libs tongue, trickling Vomit
good s t**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 b h***outta box with one hypo jab Inject
tiger-serum I, can’t hear em' «who… «?Alex
with the fu n'***loaded 30−0-2 Cause
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
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
f k**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]