Cage (DE) - Unlike Tower 1 lyrics

Cage - You wanna shoot a video? Bring a pistol to Blockbuster Wanna step to Weathermen cause you all co*ks**ers Want a soldier story? What's gold and gory Pullin j**elry off some dead b**h in the crematory Put 12 little f*ggots in the f**in dirt then crawl, Out your little girl's jaw and ask her: WHO'S BIZARRE? I'm so underground I should seek production in China Cut a dime in half I got two nicks and one vagina Find a therapist that I can eat out SOON Cause I'm so home-sick I miss mom's Fallopian tubes My vision is still frame animation, Put a gun to a square, make him slice a mason Pissin adjacent, got a dog for an agent, Studied virtue in the basement where my doctor tried to keep his patients Paint a portrain, four minutes, no rush While fools flock in a circle to dissect the brush Chorus - 2x Half step, can't walk Drunk s*uts, pants off Fake jacks, can't talk This mic, hands off New jacks, get taught Weak sh**, get caught Your crew, sh**'s off Whack b**h, dick soft Copywrite- Doc Strange'll sop your Range, With a stinkin bucket of piss And co*kblock your brain if you think of f**in with this By Christ I've been summoned to spit, Son of a b**h up in your crib f**in your b**h with one of my fists Pants saggin low, hand smackin ho's Get down with the Klan just to slit the Grand Dragon's throat The way I see everything on this damn Earth is free Murder beats and turn MCs to hamburger meat First comin of Copywrite, D for the mic Creep like a thief in the night Sneak in ya crib, leave with ya wife Repent for your recordings, when your engineer said your vocals were too hot He meant they were distorted, Explain how your venom harms your prey and you're hard to slay, When your DJ's dressin up in women's lingerie For Eons I infect ya'll with Agent Orange, If you don't know the words to these verses, Don't even say the chorus Chorus - 2x Mr. Eon- I stay unbreakable like David Dunn The Philly native son You Mr. Gla** on mics, the jaded one Check out this ill crew's onslaught Your career is a Hot97 after-thought It's not my fault the asphalt and the past fought Now who's that kid from Space Mountain, Lookin like an accountant, highly touted Off and on again, really hip hop needs to take five like Donovan I end my coke nights with bong hits of Klonopin Send me the f** to (Hannuman?) please Or release (E-Ceaze?) from the hospital for joint disease See the weasel on DaVinci's easel With the Mona Lisa oil painting shavings and scrapings Combined with championship trophy engravings, Clouds rock from foul crowds to out of bounds, Ya'll couldn't see my a** if I was in hospital gowns Chorus - 2x (this might not be all correct, and I'm certain I messed up a few spots in Eon's verse)