I was mislead, but once I found the way
I convinced a group of 19 that they should drown today
How I flipped it, clipped it after madness
Then the dead came back and haunted the wrong address
Cause they some stupid dead motherf**ers
Just like all you b**hes and Weathermen fluffers
And I get my shoes polished
By the best open mic emcees , paying Timberlands homage
In this day and age if your deck ain't playing Cage
You're probably disgruntled you miss his funneled mayonnaise
Or I ain't get the right pub
My whole career been a upstream kayak through blood
My tools love, seeing the face of opponents
Seconds before their skull and wig savor the moment
Light up a J, cast silence over bobbing heads
Stuck underground, sh** I might as well rob the dead
[Hook]
Give this to the DJ then trash the clubs
Lick the cover of my CD then see what acid does
Don't just stand there looking like some average thugs
If there's a chick standing next to you then grab her jugs
And if you ain't grabbin' the dough when they ask for love
Then you come back to the crib wearing a mask and gloves
Then you go back to the club stinking of a** and blood
Yoke some kid up, dig his pockets and snatch the d**
I took a backwards education
Studied some sh** with broken navigation
All this anti-Cage demonstratin'
I don't pray to Satan
I pray on agents makin'
Shapeable minds
Capable of firing traceable 9's
But not at any pigs that make their snout's seen
I don't know what I wrote til' I spit and my mouth bleeds
Look, more patterns to market
Not even aimin' I'm staining the walls of Target with shoppers that look at me awkward
Granted I got a cannon and my freakin' mouth's leakin'
Cause my crew put more dust in the air than house keeping
If you sleeping you're getting woke the f** up
Like you're parents while you bump this and smoke the f** up
With so much drama in the NYC
I carry 9 millimeter in the back of taxi
While I thought music prevented GOV servants
In the cycle of brain wash entertainment's the detergent
[Hook]
If my thought patterns
Brought palans, to Walt Adams
And spit violence and d**h, then kids start gatherin'
Bloody ear can*l
Hold it down with a towel
Cause by the time the verse hatch your stomach's hangin' out
We got a verse on the loose, let's get these mouth zippers
Buy six drinks a night then wake up and wear 'em as house slippers
I'm just f**in' with you b**h, don't get offended
This ain't your average anti-pop record with a happy ending
Go ask your block
School body and ba*tard pops
How the f** you get your hands on acid drops
Music television repellent for kids with extreme views
Start torchin' labs to light your team's fuse
Forgotten, plottin', rotten student, been truant
I keep my hands in it with no tangible influence
Whether a Clockwork Orange or a murderous night
A book of what my pops did to Tony Burgess's wife
[Hook]