| Catch the Raid, intoxic from roach spray I puff on
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| Mr. Slithers, now you’re gay like Waylan Smithers
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| I be Mr. Burns, huff trees and seedlings
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| Destroy any race, color, creed
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| I come wit readings, ?atour? |
| selections, bent erections
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| The outcome is known just like fixed elections
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| I make cake like conjuctive-itis
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| Yo can’t see me wit your pinned up eyelids
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| I burn in all climates
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| Got chicks with grips stuff crystal up they sinus
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| I pull your insides out like Polo parka liners
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| Twice birth-ed, questionably earth bred
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| Umbilical noose scars on my neck from where I first lived
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| Intention’s be cynical, outshine the critical
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| This spherical miracle, wit cadence that’s greatest
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| Debate this, is Cage a serial rapist
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| And Dick Starbuck, now your town run amuck
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| We pillage ya village, snatchin up smurfettes
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| And suckin on they titties like chicken croquette
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| I saw three cuties, gettin molested at the movies
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| I would of broke it up but the attackers was my Droogies
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| No conscience like I’m solace
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| I stay up in boxes like New York’s homeless
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| I run train wit split personalities
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| Wit connected at the knees, Siamese analogies
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| «I'm obvious oblivion but that’s my science»
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| «Could you possibly fathom what the dome be equipped with»
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| «I bring it, to the head piece-piece»
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| «Agent Orange, stompin on MC-C»
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| «I'm obvious oblivion but that’s my science»
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| «Rippable fact» «Agent Orange» «Rippable fact»
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| «Sinister»
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| You suck like a succubus, I write rhymes in incubus
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| To blow your Face Off, courtesy Cage not Nicolas
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| But mad Christialist, Sunday’s rock black bathrooms
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| Pimp shit like warlocks in washington clothes
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| Heads make blood pressure, pop vessel stretcher
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| Bring dead as the sixth starters, digest ya
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| Your fake illusion be strictly optical
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| My optimal intake is always optimal
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| Eliminating pussies, call me gynecological
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| Removing Fallopians, call me hysterical
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| Hysterectomy a remedy, peeps readily
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| Mic in my hand is where the metal be
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| In a unfulfilled quest to find out who’s tightest
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| On the run, yeah I spray cats like graffiti writers
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| I spit phrases, painted wit tainted day-es
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| Pontius Pilate-ing planes for semi-sane
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| Plus Cage is the aviator
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| Alex the Great’ll kill desader
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| Masochist lyricist DJ with his own fader
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| Reap havoc on the mic like Hamas in Jerusalem
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| Wit napalm, and the pipe bombs, we be doin em
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| But cover up like flab on abdominal
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| Now you wanna smoke the E, I deal in chronicles
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| Watch the watch, while you peep the hypnotics
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| Now my conscience be obnoxious if you knock this |