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Absolutly Correct (Only notes will be sent) Mostly Correct, yet... The lyrics are wrong Very Wrong Not the lyrics to 54
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Lyric Body	[Cage - whispering] Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huhhhhh Kill that cat.. watch me kill that cat If it's your girl I'm lookin at Then watch me kill that cat [Verse One: Cage] I hunt cunts like these, with underground disease In they yearly matin spots, spawn a million MC's (got rhymes) that used to go to shows, drink dance get high Then you click the mic the whole audience wanna rhyme (yo let me rhyme let me rhyme) In '92 I let the Cage outta Alex Through college radio demonstrate the fist, fuck the love ballads Summon demons in my ad libs, fun triplin Vomit good shit, go feed off dead Christians Red light in the Lincoln, from drinkin Drencrom The corpse in my eye can explain the thinkin While I lay behind a wall of flesh, engulfed by the homeless If I escape, I might evaporate my whole state Plus when Cage ripped in half on the concrete Screamin, "That's my spirit running down the street!" The undead, writin in gun lead Liposuct' a fat bitch out her box with one hypo' jab Inject tiger serum, I can't hear 'em (who?) Alex with the fuckin loaded thirty-oh-two, cause [Chorus: Cage] This is for the whores, and the kicked over stores And fifty-four dollars in my pocket on tour This is for the kid that said, "Oh you dead!" And the fifty-four stitches that he caught in his head This is for the clowns I beat with no hands And the two O-Z's down to fifty-four grams With two to the face, I'm a basket face With fifty-four seconds to outer space [Cage] I love a bull mastiff ground up, make a pound up With green Jesus, get in I'll drive you to seizures Humanoid pause, before God, with cyborg dogs after me Killin these rhymin Sigmund Freuds - for the cause Your whole life's a waitin room for worms Strangest occurs, you see Venus in furs With toast out facin Earth, avenge my sixteen Your old shell talk to pistols like Starscream My whole story lost on a wall in black marker 66 more flicks for Clive Barker With a little message, for real research kids Can you guess who the faggot DJ is? My anti-commercial style will curse you Say fuck so much, my airplay's like curfew To third shift farm chemists, the senate scarred Start killin all the livin like the Serbian guards You supportin communism buyin majors so dub Watch me put two rocks in Kurt Loder head, whassup [Chorus] {Mighty Mi scratches} The undead.. red light in the Lincoln For Cage.. ripped.. in half on the concrete Screamin, "That's my spirit runnin down the street!" Runnin down the street.. runnin d... down the street
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