Blue collar to corporate blessed the unfortunate  Like when I put my foot down that bitch still aborted it  Stuck the canister under my jacket like the lucky one  'Uh, sir you can't leave with that,' Bitch this my fucking son!  Put with the gun crammed in the glovebox  With 151 drum bottles, I don't drink, they gettin' flung  With lit rags in it, kill 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 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    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 bitch in to see Shallow Hal  I drink Jack puff black in Orange County  Bought a gun with a body to stick in this whore'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 kill 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 gas to heads  You was bitch 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 bitches up no stress  Like your life in the monitor box behind the desk  I scribble shit on paper, pay rent, look at nature  See a menage before lunch, them bitches are ravers  Drive blazers, still inside my North Face  Drippin' formaldahyde and short-circuit my tazer    [Chorus]