| Man talking:
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| The old cynicism is gone
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| We have faith in our ears
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| We’re optimistic, as to what becomes of it all
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| It really boils down to our ability to accept
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| We don’t need pessimism
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| Teenage death, girls want dick not words
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| Flicks, got hearse
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| Tits, not hers
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| Went to the park at dark and shot birds
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| With a Mauser
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| Get a lot stirred
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| Fuck gimmicks
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| Then quickly abort the duck image
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| Occupy the same space that you can’t fuck with it
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| I’m writing words tasting
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| Like the most anticipated works of violence since Freddy vs. Jason
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| I’m worth patience, a worth in greater market
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| So I can shoot up your chest like them little paper targets
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| I donate sluts, never pitch in to pay tricks
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| How’d you get your shit on billboards? |
| Bitch, glitch in the Matrix
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| And that’s beside five flies in conformness kids
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| That may or may not know what a Cage performance is The latest installment is not to unplug you
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| But if you don’t get this by the 13th, listen and fuck you!
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| Fuck this rap shit, it’s what you weigh in the street (right)
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| Don’t shit where you sleep, better lay with your heat (tonight)
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| All praise D.O.V. |
| cause that’s who’s comin'
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| Lookin’for huntin’with the gunnin'
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| Watch your backs are runnin'
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| It’s like he’s already dead if you’re saying he sleeps (right)
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| They’re comin’real deep and they’re playin’for keeps (tonight)
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| Run for the hills cause they’re comin’for kills
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| You got fuck to loose, you got nothing to bill
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| It’s like money is God, y’all worship church rappers
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| I cut Rock 'N'Roll High School with purse snatchers
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| If the clocks are all evil then Orange’s guns peal
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| Drop food on my fr-enemies like Donald Rumsfield
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| I run with the ropes
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| Spent to much on choke
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| Had a PCP overdose and I still smoke
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| Can’t get locked down how my brindle enters
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| And won’t come down like New York’s two burning middle fingers
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| Street journalist
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| Even written down to this
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| Most of my rap colleagues sittin’down to piss
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| Bookstore revolution
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| Televised execution
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| Where I put my dip Newports at Susan
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| What if Kurt were to put a hole in Courtney chest
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| That frame of mind wouldn’t caught me a west
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| For Cage is anarchist games evolved
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| While the most wild mannered piss, brains dissolve
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| Reading, study while my boots bloody
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| So fuckin’milky her marginised loops love me And a company of wolves they respect I eat first
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| But doctors can’t stitch up for your stomach leak bursts
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| Mix max with half-wits
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| The task flips
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| In Middle Town they’ll shoot you over a fuckin’trash bitch
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| Grew up with no pop and a crazy hoe
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| That’s why I need no play on commercial radio
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| Unravel the mind, around the room frozen sides
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| Sheep to tired to fight, close your eyes
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| Put vanilla dutches in the sky, when the Time’s on the table
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| Knife to the tits, 9 to the navel
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| It’s like a self-righteous path to line these pockets
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| I got sideways knowledge, doll, at least he’s honest
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| Stick a fork in his tail, then jux the crowd with it If there’s bite marks on my dick if think your girl’s mouth did it |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Teenage Death, artist - Cage. Album song Movies For The Blind, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп