[Verse 1: Cage]
I drink a bucket of paint
Watch my dick animate
Puke my guts out
Reveal a Poltergeist state
Now I'm inside out no need to hide out
Ain't made mistakes with paper since I sniffed the white out
Ink them, rip is a genius a genious, my stiching life seamless
Most like I dont exist to deem this
I reach the heavens from my nights
Plug mics in satellites, scream
"Somebody get me off this fucking planet tonight!"
When I wig out like salons, I'm calmed by sick flicks
Got the staple gun for if your train of thought splits
And it's so unchristian the way I'm blisterin'
Tired rhyme styles from Detroit Michelin
Who's that trim lady?
Claimin some other nigga baby
While her bitch royce roll for her bitch voice faggs the math after moist
My hollywood writa'
Thought b-boy stood for bitta'
[Hook-mixed]
[verse 2: Cage]
Snatchin' gutty butts with slang from Clockwork
Plus, my insects spects make me look like a gray
Running through livestock cattle mutilate for BK
Visit crop circles since clubs ain't fresh
When I'm wildin' like Scott picking up agent LES
The forceps in your chest try to pull out karma
Who walked away with a smokin' tool and a rottweiler parma
I made it out this life with warm breath
Leap into a stillborn, crawl back in for ill porn
Never call me son since my name Alex Starr
I smack emcees with the Lincoln town car
Bite your tongue off before you sound simila'
And don't need no bitch box after Cage stick his Jim in her
I drink a bucket of paint
Watch my dick animate
Puke my guts out
Reveal a Poltergeist state
Now I'm inside out no need to hide out
Ain't made mistakes with paper since I sniffed the white out
Ink them, rip is a genius a genious, my stiching life seamless
Most like I dont exist to deem this
I reach the heavens from my nights
Plug mics in satellites, scream
"Somebody get me off this fucking planet tonight!"
When I wig out like salons, I'm calmed by sick flicks
Got the staple gun for if your train of thought splits
And it's so unchristian the way I'm blisterin'
Tired rhyme styles from Detroit Michelin
Who's that trim lady?
Claimin some other nigga baby
While her bitch royce roll for her bitch voice faggs the math after moist
My hollywood writa'
Thought b-boy stood for bitta'
[Hook-mixed]
[verse 2: Cage]
Snatchin' gutty butts with slang from Clockwork
Plus, my insects spects make me look like a gray
Running through livestock cattle mutilate for BK
Visit crop circles since clubs ain't fresh
When I'm wildin' like Scott picking up agent LES
The forceps in your chest try to pull out karma
Who walked away with a smokin' tool and a rottweiler parma
I made it out this life with warm breath
Leap into a stillborn, crawl back in for ill porn
Never call me son since my name Alex Starr
I smack emcees with the Lincoln town car
Bite your tongue off before you sound simila'
And don't need no bitch box after Cage stick his Jim in her
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