Cage - Down The Left Hand Path Lyrics
* send corrections to the typistI was mislead, but once I found the wayI convinced a group of 19 that they should drown todayHow I flipped it, clipped it after madnessThen the dead came back and haunted the wrong addressCause they some stupid dead mother*****ersJust like all you *****es, all Weathermen fluffersAnd I get my shoes polishedBy the best open mic emcees paying Timbaland's homageIn this day and ageIf your deck ain't playing CageYou probably disgruntled your Mrs. Funnel mayonnaiseOr I ain't get the right palmMy whole career been a upstream kayak through bloodMy tools love, seeing the face of opponentsSeconds before they scull and wig savor the momentLight up a Jay, cast silence over BobAnd hair stuck on the ground, shit I might as well rob the dead[Chorus]Hear this to the DJ then track the clubsLift the cover of my CD then see what acid doesDon't just stand there looking like some average thugsIf there's a chick standing next to you then grab her jugsAnd if you ain't grabbin' the dough when they ass belowThen you come back to the crib wearin' a mask and glovesThen you go back to the club stinkin' of ass and bloodJoke some kid up diggin' pockets and snatch the drugsI a backwards educationStudied some chick with broken navigationAll this anti-Cage demonstratin'I don't pray to SatanI pray on agents makin'Shapeable mindsCapable of firing traceable 9'sBut not at any kegs that make they snout's seeI don't know what I wrote till' I spit and my mouth bleedsLook, more patterns to marketNot even naming I'm standin' a walkin' target with shoppers that look at meawkwardGranted I got a canon and my freakin' mouth's leakin'Cause my crew put more dust in the air than house keepingIf you sleeping you're getting woke the ***** upLike you're parents while you bought this and smoke the ***** upWith some much rhymin' in the NYCI carry 9 millimeter in the back of TaxiWhile I thought music prevented GOB servantsAnd a cycle of brain wash entertainments to detergent[Chorus]If my thought patternsBrought palans to Walt AdamsAnd spit violence and death, then kids start gaddin'Bloody ear canalHold it down with a towelCause by the time the verse hatch your stomach's hangin' outWe got a verse on the loose, let's get these mouth zippersBuy six drinks a night then wake up and wear 'em as house slippersI'm just *****in' with you *****, don't get offendedThis ain't your average anti-pop record with a happy endingGo ask your blockSchool body and bastard popsHow the ***** you get your hands on acid dropsMusic television repellent for kids with extreme viewsStart torchin' labs to light the team's fuseI've gotten plottin', rotten ? been chewingI keep my hands in it with no tangible influenceWhether a Clockwork Orange or a murderous nightA book of what my pops did to Tony Burgess's wife[Chorus]
