| I was mislead, but once I found the way
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| I convinced a group of 19 that they should drown today
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| How I flipped it, clipped it after madness
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| Then the dead came back and haunted the wrong address
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| Cause they some stupid dead motherfuckers
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| Just like all you bitches and Weathermen fluffers
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| And I get my shoes polished
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| By the best open mic emcees, paying Timberlands homage
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| In this day and age if your deck ain’t playing Cage
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| You’re probably disgruntled you miss his funneled mayonnaise
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| Or I ain’t get the right pub
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| My whole career been a upstream kayak through blood
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| My tools love, seeing the face of opponents
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| Seconds before their skull and wig savor the moment
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| Light up a J, cast silence over bobbing heads
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| Stuck underground, shit I might as well rob the dead
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| Give this to the DJ then trash the clubs
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| Lick the cover of my CD then see what acid does
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| Don’t just stand there looking like some average thugs
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| If there’s a chick standing next to you then grab her jugs
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| And if you ain’t grabbin' the dough when they ask for love
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| Then you come back to the crib wearing a mask and gloves
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| Then you go back to the club stinking of ass and blood
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| Yoke some kid up, dig his pockets and snatch the drugs
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| I took a backwards education
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| Studied some shit with broken navigation
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| All this anti-Cage demonstratin'
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| I don’t pray to Satan
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| I prey on agents makin'
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| Shapeable minds
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| Capable of firing traceable 9's
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| But not at any pigs that make their snout’s seen
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| I don’t know what I wrote til' I spit and my mouth bleeds
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| Look, more patterns to market
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| Not even aimin' I’m staining the walls of Target with shoppers that look at me
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| awkward
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| Granted I got a cannon and my freakin' mouth’s leakin'
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| Cause my crew put more dust in the air than house keeping
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| If you sleeping you’re getting woke the fuck up
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| Like you’re parents while you bump this and smoke the fuck up
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| With so much drama in the NYC
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| I carry 9 millimeter in the back of taxi
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| While I thought music prevented GOV servants
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| In the cycle of brain wash entertainment’s the detergent
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| If my thought patterns
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| Brought palans, to Walt Adams
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| And spit violence and death, then kids start gatherin'
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| Bloody ear canal
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| Hold it down with a towel
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| Cause by the time the verse hatch your stomach’s hangin' out
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| We got a verse on the loose, let’s get these mouth zippers
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| Buy six drinks a night then wake up and wear 'em as house slippers
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| I’m just fuckin' with you bitch, don’t get offended
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| This ain’t your average anti-pop record with a happy ending
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| Go ask your block
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| School body and bastard pops
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| How the fuck you get your hands on acid drops
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| Music television repellent for kids with extreme views
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| Start torchin' labs to light your team’s fuse
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| Forgotten, plottin', rotten student, been truant
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| I keep my hands in it with no tangible influence
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| Whether a Clockwork Orange or a murderous night
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| A book of what my pops did to Tony Burgess’s wife |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song (Down) The Left Hand Path , by - Cage. Song from the album Movies For The Blind, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп