Cage -You wanna shoot a video?Bring a pistol to BlockbusterWanna step to Weathermen cause you all cocksuckersWant a soldier story? What's gold and goryPullin jewelry off some dead bitch in the crematoryPut 12 little faggots in the fuckin dirt then crawl,Out your little girl's jaw and ask her:WHO'S BIZARRE?I'm so underground I should seek production in ChinaCut a dime in half I got two nicks and one vaginaFind a therapist that I can eat out SOONCause I'm so home-sick I miss mom's Fallopian tubesMy vision is still frame animation,Put a gun to a square, make him slice a masonPissin adjacent, got a dog for an agent,Studied virtue in the basement where my doctor tried to keep his patientsPaint a portrain, four minutes, no rushWhile fools flock in a circle to dissect the brushChorus - 2xHalf step, can't walkDrunk sluts, pants offFake jacks, can't talkThis mic, hands offNew jacks, get taughtWeak shit, get caughtYour crew, shit's offWhack bitch, dick softCopywrite-Doc Strange'll sop your Range,With a stinkin bucket of pissAnd cockblock your brain if you think of fuckin with thisBy Christ I've been summoned to spit,Son of a bitch up in your crib fuckin your bitch with one of my fistsPants saggin low, hand smackin ho'sGet down with the Klan just to slit the Grand Dragon's throatThe way I see everything on this damn Earth is freeMurder beats and turn MCs to hamburger meatFirst comin of Copywrite, D for the micCreep like a thief in the nightSneak in ya crib, leave with ya wifeRepent for your recordings, when your engineer said your vocals were too hotHe meant they were distorted,Explain how your venom harms your prey and you're hard to slay,When your DJ's dressin up in women's lingerieFor Eons I infect ya'll with Agent Orange,If you don't know the words to these verses,Don't even say the chorusChorus - 2xMr. Eon-I stay unbreakable like David DunnThe Philly native sonYou Mr. Glass on mics, the jaded oneCheck out this ill crew's onslaughtYour career is a Hot97 after-thoughtIt's not my fault the asphalt and the past foughtNow who's that kid from Space Mountain,Lookin like an accountant, highly toutedOff and on again, really hip hop needs to take five like DonovanI end my coke nights with bong hits of KlonopinSend me the fuck to (Hannuman?) pleaseOr release (E-Ceaze?) from the hospital for joint diseaseSee the weasel on DaVinci's easelWith the Mona Lisa oil painting shavings and scrapingsCombined with championship trophy engravings,Clouds rock from foul crowds to out of bounds,Ya'll couldn't see my ass if I was in hospital gownsChorus - 2x(this might not be all correct, and I'm certain I messed up a few spots in Eon's verse)
