Haterama - Cage

So many faggots to swing the ax at

Who do I shoot first?

Answer when I make this dead cow feel my boots hurt

Whoever’s standin' as part of the human pavement

Quitters advance, tryin' to rap, the movement’s faded

Kill like I stuck it in shit

Sold ya’ll a bucket of shit

Even Bobbito said, «Fuck it I quit!»

KCR shit me out but you knew that

Reflect your crew back, to that late-'90s beat

You shouldn’t eschew that

The biggest pop star in the world threw dirt in my engine

But when I say his name I look like Royce tryin' to get attention

I know the ledge, 110 stories you been sour

The only Boston hits in New York was the Twin Towers

It’s only right my raps reflect evil

My only wish: to trade places with them 3, 000 dead people

Hindsight Halloween you begged to open up

Daddy’s Lex, coked it up, on stage chokin' up

Dropped the mic and left

Cage arrived a hour later

Cause the opening acts bore me, epecially them coward haters

Eight Jack and Cokes, 7L's gettin' lucky

Get to the side of the stage, these groupies tryin' to touch me

That’s a snuff, no that’s a hug, my arm’s small

Richie Rich got the nerve to steal on me for pub?

What was that?

Bugs hit windshields harder than that

Wasted loot on rap, coulda been through Harvard and back

I know you’re salty I sold more in Beantown

You’re obscene, now you’re wasting all your label’s cream now

Trying to get violent, but gay is gay

The same day New Yorkers was on mourning JMJ

You got no respect, why give it?

You don’t get it

What toy-ass crew can’t beat up paramedics

Too many cards showing, do you know how to play the game?

Throwin' up consecutive bricks like it’s your label’s name

Oops, I guess it is, fuckin' stick to the kegs

Your team probably front like they ain’t on my dick in your face

End your career?

shit ain’t even started

Clean up your style

Help out Lif, he holdin' your whole scene up

You see the sweat on his face, that’s all

I know you ain’t sweat like that since you sent El-P a demo

And his slang is outdated like, «Look I’m butter now»

You fatherfuckers still drown in my watered down

True, me and your producer got a past beef

Either his girl sucked my dick or I wouldn’t rock to his trash beats

BOAST: look girls, your health’s vital

Cop the Nighthawks album, bitches, Celph Titled

Played your boys idle

Every tonight’ll seem like you and the cops are tight

Shoot up your ankles cause your socks are white

Go teach your pops to fight