Too Much

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 adds 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 [Hook] 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 say 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 [Hook] 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 soup 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 gats 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 [Hook]