Lyrics With Us - Molemen, Cage, Copywrite

With Us

Somebody better call the cops!
We’ll throw rocks and smash shit
Because I’m down to the most intricate ligament detachment action
Closed-captions are the gross fractions
Of the percentage of song-writers that host caskets
Want to see the Cage album or get clapped to hear it?
Bludgeon you to death, minutes later shootin' your spirit!
Shootin' a porn I got a quick role;
Empty the clip in this bitch, fuck the wound
'Till the slug’s up in my dick hole
Wastin' mine and the crowd’s time
Thought you had beef standing there with a cow’s spine
And I’m eatin' the heart
Get beaten apart, painting with your arms — leaking the art
Somebody get this kid a bandage
While I’m stabbing where your adrenaline gland is in front of cameras
Tryin' to balance a nuclear warhead on your forehead
Pullin' soul food through your stomach to dip the cornbread
Fucking with us, we’ll leave you stuck in the dirt
With your fiance and my fingers up in her skirt
Weathermen for life, as long as I’m stuck on the earth
And if a bitch don’t swallow, what the fuck is she worth?
We get grimy, haven’t showered for days;
flies behind me
Grimy, I can pick your lock in 6 seconds;
time me
Grimy, I don’t give a shit if you like me or don’t like me
As long as you see us you keep your mouth locked tightly
You’ll shit your drawers, before I spit two bars
I’m everything you’re ashamed to admit you are
When God said let there be light, I appeard
You thought I debuted on World Premiere?
I was here
Made a blind man tell me what color my eyes are
Made a deaf girl complain on what level the highs are
Last one to cyph with us, I sliced them up
To who I’m shittin' on, you ain’t nice enough
To waste a written on
The Weathermen, we’re comin' up to get you
I can’t think of a stage name dumb enough to fit you
I hit you with six 2 by 4s, Crews I floor
Picked up his watch, turned to his bitch like «You my whore!»
I’m too hot, stop this man
When I was born 3rd degree burns were left on the doctor’s hands
You want mine?
The mic’s your dad’s buckle
These punchlines are spiked with brass knuckles
Underwater I breathe and move quicker than you
I know heads that been dead for decades sicker than you
They’re my dogs I’ll sick 'em on you.
And my pets are vicious
Shit, I’m the owner, Go fetch my slippers
Besides us ain’t it too many rippin'
My brainstorm floods with enough thought for y’all to skinny dip in
And I forever burn steady, since Adam was put in a garden
And if y’all weren’t ready, you shouldn’t have started