I was mislead, but once I found the way   I convinced a group of 19 that they should drown today   How I flipped it, clipped it after madness   Then the dead came back and haunted the wrong address   Cause they some stupid dead motherfuckers   Just like all you bitches, all Weathermen fluffers   And I get my shoes polished   By the best open mic emcees paying Timbaland's homage   In this day and age   If your deck ain't playing Cage   You probably disgruntled your Mrs. Funnel mayonnaise   Or I ain't get the right palm   My whole career been a upstream kayak through blood   My tools love, seeing the face of opponents   Seconds before they scull and wig savor the moment   Light up a Jay, cast silence over Bob   And hair stuck on the ground, shit I might as well rob the dead      Hear this to the DJ then track the clubs   Lift the cover of my CD then see what acid does   Don't just stand there looking like some average thugs   If there's a chick standing next to you then grab her jugs   And if you ain't grabbin' the dough when they ass below   Then you come back to the crib wearin' a mask and gloves   Then you go back to the club stinkin' of ass and blood   Joke some kid up diggin' pockets and snatch the drugs      I a backwards education   Studied some chick with broken navigation   All this anti-Cage demonstratin'   I don't pray to Satan   I pray on agents makin'   Shapeable minds   Capable of firing traceable 9's   But not at any kegs that make they snout's see   I don't know what I wrote till' I spit and my mouth bleeds   Look, more patterns to market   Not even naming I'm standin' a walkin' target with shoppers that look at me   awkward   Granted I got a canon and my freakin' mouth's leakin'   Cause my crew put more dust in the air than house keeping   If you sleeping you're getting woke the fuck up   Like you're parents while you bought this and smoke the fuck up   With some much rhymin' in the NYC   I carry 9 millimeter in the back of Taxi   While I thought music prevented GOB servants   And a cycle of brain wash entertainments to detergent      If my thought patterns   Brought palans to Walt Adams   And spit violence and death, then kids start gaddin'   Bloody ear canal   Hold it down with a towel   Cause by the time the verse hatch your stomach's hangin' out   We got a verse on the loose, let's get these mouth zippers   Buy six drinks a night then wake up and wear 'em as house slippers   I'm just fuckin' with you bitch, don't get offended   This ain't your average anti-pop record with a happy ending   Go ask your block   School body and bastard pops   How the fuck you get your hands on acid drops   Music television repellent for kids with extreme views   Start torchin' labs to light the team's fuse   I've gotten plottin', rotten ? been chewing   I keep my hands in it with no tangible influence   Whether a Clockwork Orange or a murderous night   A book of what my pops did to Tony Burgess's wife