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