too much (remix)

blue collar to corporate blessed the unfortunate

like when i put my foot down that bitch still aborted it

stuck the canister under my jacket like the lucky one

'uh

sir you can't leave with that

' bitch this my fucking son!

put with the gun crammed in the glovebox

with 151 drum bottles

i don't drink

they gettin' flung

with lit rags in it

kill 10 step-dads a minute

still won't be a star till the label as a gimmick

even if i limit timid com-mi-tive cynics

each one famous suicide at gunpoint to mimic

you too can be a mock-celeb or the last there is

or be ghost like money that played casper in kids

i put a sick twist every other frame design so

you see aids victims selling pretzels at a slideshow

with a nine shown i brand and skin 'em

run out of punchlines when you kids stop standin' in 'em

yo chris i think they think you know too much

yeah sis i think you put coke up your nose too much

they cut my hands off so i couldn't hold too much

they try to kill me through my dick with these hoes too much

you stack dough too much

you smack hoes too much

well you can blame it on the mint leaves i roll too much

they cut my hands off so i couldn't hold too much

don't stand off

bullet holes show too much

they see weed on dust with an ounce a pound

is like jumping out of building grabbing napkins on the way down

my impant i scarred

i'm anti-star

though i shine like one buried underground with ya'll

and i tried to learn good just wasn't concerned

should

i really be on my sixth bottle of wormwood

my skin is burnin' blisternin' aloe ow

dragged this big fat bitch in to see shallow hal

i drink jack puff black in orange county

bought a gun with a body to stick in this whore's audi

knew this kid craze he would stick dope on a chick open ha'

then i changed my name to cage like nick coppola

all these snakes with these forked tongues stitched together

after i put down the pepper i switch the weather

whatever rights they want to shrug off for safety feelin' taken

for a rabbi appearance cause they kneelin' to satan

then

i stepped over the bloody axe frame with wax fame

rogue pistol runnin' through new york like max payne

out shootin' celebs

i'm rootin' for feds

in a pit of lions then we sip shoot from the heads

i run with maniacs liable to kill at any minute then

i wonder why i can't shake this insanity image

it's been a dead cage since i've strapped to beds

and shot up with needles and five since i put gas to heads

you was bitch in high school no rep no threat

riding my jacket like i'm a hand off the fans at coat check

haters want to put they bitches up no stress

like your life in the monitor box behind the desk

i scribble shit on paper

pay rent

look at nature

see a menage before lunch

them bitches are ravers

drive blazers

still inside my north face

drippin' formaldahyde and short-circuit my tazer