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Blue collar to corporate blessed the unfortunate |
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Like when I put my foot down that bitch still aborted it |
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Stuck the canister under my jacket like the lucky one |
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Uh, sir you can't leave with that, bitch this my fucking son |
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Put with the gun crammed in the glove box |
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With 151 drum bottles, I don't drink, they gettin' flung |
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With lit rags in it, kill 10 step-dads a minute |
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Still won't be a star till the label as a gimmick |
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Even if I limit timid commitive cynics |
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Each one famous suicide at gunpoint to mimic |
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You too can be a mock-celeb or the last there is |
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Or be ghost like money that played Casper in kids |
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I put a sick twist every other frame design so |
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You see AIDS victims selling pretzels at a slide show |
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With a nine shown I brand and skin 'em |
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Run out of punchlines when you kids stop standin' in 'em |
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Yo Chris, I think they think you know too much |
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Yeah sis, I think you put coke up your nose too much |
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They cut my hands off so I couldn't hold too much |
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They try to kill me through my dick with these hoes too much |
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You stack dough too much, you smack hoes too much |
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Well you can blame it on the mint leaves, I roll too much |
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They cut my hands off so I couldn't hold too much |
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Don't stand off, bullet holes show too much |
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They see weed on dust with an ounce a pound |
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Is like jumping out of building grabbing napkins on the way down |
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My impant I scarred, I'm anti-star |
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Though I shine like one buried underground with y'all |
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And I tried to learn good just wasn't concerned |
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Should I really be on my sixth bottle of wormwood |
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My skin is burnin' blisternin' aloe ow |
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Dragged this big fat bitch in to see 'Shallow Hal' |
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I drink Jack puff black in Orange County |
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Bought a gun with a body to stick in this whore's Audi |
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Knew this kid Craze, he would stick dope on a chick open ha' |
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Then I changed my name to Cage like Nick Coppola |
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All these snakes with these forked tongues stitched together |
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After I put down the pepper I switch the weather |
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Whatever rights they want to shrug off for safety feelin' taken |
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For a Rabbi appearance 'cuz they kneelin' to satan |
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Yo Chris, I think they think you know too much |
|
Yeah sis, I think you put coke up your nose too much |
|
They cut my hands off so I couldn't hold too much |
|
They try to kill me through my dick with these hoes too much |
|
You stack dough too much, you smack hoes too much |
|
Well you can blame it on the mint leaves I roll too much |
|
They cut my hands off so I couldn't hold too much |
|
Don't stand off, bullet holes show too much |
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Then, I stepped over the bloody axe frame with wax fame |
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Rogue pistol runnin' through New York like Max Payne |
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Out shootin' celebs, I'm rootin' for feds |
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In a pit of lions then we sip shoot from the heads |
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I run with maniacs liable to kill at any minute then |
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I wonder why I can't shake this insanity image |
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It's been a dead Cage since I've strapped to beds |
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And shot up with needles and five since I put gas to heads |
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You was bitch in high school no rep no threat |
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Riding my jacket like I'm a hand off the fans at coat check |
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Haters want to put they bitches up no stress |
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Like your life in the monitor box behind the desk |
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I scribble shit on paper, pay rent, look at nature |
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See a menage before lunch, them bitches are ravers |
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Drive blazers, still inside my North Face |
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Drippin' formaldehyde and short-circuit my tazer |
|
Yo Chris, I think they think you know too much |
|
Yeah sis, I think you put coke up your nose too much |
|
They cut my hands off so I couldn't hold too much |
|
They try to kill me through my dick with these hoes too much |
|
You stack dough too much, you smack hoes too much |
|
Well you can blame it on the mint leaves I roll too much |
|
They cut my hands off so I couldn't hold too much |
|
Don't stand off, bullet holes show too much |
