| So many faggots to swing the ax at
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| Who do I shoot first?
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| Answer when I make this dead cow feel my boots hurt
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| Whoever’s standin' as part of the human pavement
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| Quitters advance, tryin' to rap, the movement’s faded
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| Kill like I stuck it in shit
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| Sold ya’ll a bucket of shit
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| Even Bobbito said, «Fuck it I quit!»
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| KCR shit me out but you knew that
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| Reflect your crew back, to that late-'90s beat
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| You shouldn’t eschew that
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| The biggest pop star in the world threw dirt in my engine
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| But when I say his name I look like Royce tryin' to get attention
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| I know the ledge, 110 stories you been sour
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| The only Boston hits in New York was the Twin Towers
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| It’s only right my raps reflect evil
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| My only wish: to trade places with them 3, 000 dead people
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| Hindsight Halloween you begged to open up
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| Daddy’s Lex, coked it up, on stage chokin' up
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| Dropped the mic and left
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| Cage arrived a hour later
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| Cause the opening acts bore me, epecially them coward haters
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| Eight Jack and Cokes, 7L's gettin' lucky
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| Get to the side of the stage, these groupies tryin' to touch me
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| That’s a snuff, no that’s a hug, my arm’s small
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| Richie Rich got the nerve to steal on me for pub?
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| What was that? |
| Bugs hit windshields harder than that
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| Wasted loot on rap, coulda been through Harvard and back
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| I know you’re salty I sold more in Beantown
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| You’re obscene, now you’re wasting all your label’s cream now
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| Trying to get violent, but gay is gay
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| The same day New Yorkers was on mourning JMJ
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| You got no respect, why give it? |
| You don’t get it
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| What toy-ass crew can’t beat up paramedics
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| Too many cards showing, do you know how to play the game?
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| Throwin' up consecutive bricks like it’s your label’s name
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| Oops, I guess it is, fuckin' stick to the kegs
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| Your team probably front like they ain’t on my dick in your face
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| End your career? |
| shit ain’t even started
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| Clean up your style
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| Help out Lif, he holdin' your whole scene up
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| You see the sweat on his face, that’s all
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| I know you ain’t sweat like that since you sent El-P a demo
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| And his slang is outdated like, «Look I’m butter now»
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| You fatherfuckers still drown in my watered down
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| True, me and your producer got a past beef
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| Either his girl sucked my dick or I wouldn’t rock to his trash beats
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| BOAST: look girls, your health’s vital
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| Cop the Nighthawks album, bitches, Celph Titled
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| Played your boys idle
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| Every tonight’ll seem like you and the cops are tight
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| Shoot up your ankles cause your socks are white
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| Go teach your pops to fight |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Haterama , by - Cage. Song from the album Weatherproof, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп