54 - Smut Peddlers

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

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 fifths 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

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

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

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