54

...Yo, Yo

Uh...huh, uh...huh, uh...huhhh

Kill that cat, Watch me kill that cat

If it's your girl im lookin' at, watch me kil that

cat...

[Cage]

I hunt cunts like these, with underground disease

And the yearly matin' spots, spawnin' million emcees

They used to go to shows drink, dance, get high

Then you click the Mic, the whole audience wanna rhyme

In ninety-two, I let the cage outta Alex, through

college radio

Demonstrate the fist, fuck the love ballads

Summon demons in my ad-libs, tongue trickling

Vomit good shit, go feed off dead Christians

Red light in the lincoln, from drinking drencrome

The corpse in my eye can explain the thinking

While I lay behind a wall of flesh, engulfed by the

homeless

If I escape, I might evaporate my whole state

Plus when cage ripped in half on the concrete

Screaming "that's my spirit running down the street"

The undead, writing the gun lead

Lypo-suck the fat bitch outta box with one hypo jab

Inject tiger-serum, I can't hear em'..."who?"

Alex with the fuckin' loaded 30-0-2

...cause

Chorus: Cage

This is for the whores, and the kicked over stores

And 54 dollars in my pocket on tour

This is for the kid that said "oh you dead"

And the 54 stitches that caught in his head

This is for the clowns I beef with no hands

And the two O-Z's down to 54 grams

With two to the face, I'm a basket face

With 54 seconds to outer space

[Cage]

I love a bull mastif, ground up, make him pound up

With green Jesus, get in, I'll drive you to seizures

Humanoid pause, before god, with cyborg dogs, after me

Killin' the rhymin' Sigmund Freuds

For the cause, your whole life's a waiting room for worms

Strangest occurs, you see Venus in furs

With toast out, facing earth, avenge my sixteen

Year old shell, talk to pistols like star scream

My whole story lost on a wall in black marker

Sixty-six more flicks for Clyde barker

With a little message for real research kids

Can you guess who the faggot DJ is?

My anti-commercial, style will curse you

Say fuck so much, my airplay's like curfew

To third shift farm chemists, the senates scarred

Start killing all the living like a serbian gods

You supporting communism buying major's, so dub

Watch me put two rocks in Kurt loaders head, for sub

Chorus: Cage

This is for the whores, and the kicked over stores

And 54 dollars in my pocket on tour

This is for the kid that said oh you dead

And the 54 stitches that caught in his head

This is for the clowns I beef wit' with no hands

And the two O-Z's down to 54 grams

With two to the face, I'm a basket face

With 54 seconds to outer space

[FADE OUT]