Weather People - Cage

I met shorty at the mall

Her bra holdin two d-cups of jello

My socks yellow from leaky — Hello!

What a bag would do to you

When the doobiest move me to a piece of property

Forget what I just put the groupie through

Got her spinnin to the angel, dizzy to diesel

Roll up the PCP-lease, I’m busy with evil

My hand on the tit, I’m commandin her clit

Disband of this shit, nobody knows but it’s expandin the chips

Chicks wanna touch I might go shoot up the fruits in her

Dip in my mouth lookin like I’m recruited by Lucifer

Ain’t like what I roll up is anti-religious

But it’s like I copped in chinatown, I would slant eyes the bitches

This is for my Weather People, them clever people

Haters should speak against cause they were never equals

Drug-fiends, I was happy to beat you

What you tell the ex hoes?

«I'm sorry I ain’t treat you!»

Learned myself cause nobody said «let me teach you»

This ain’t for the Middletown people I still see through

This is for my Weather People, them clever people

Haters should speak against cause they were never equals

Dust-fiends, I was happy to beat you

What you tell the ex ho?

«I'm sorry I ain’t eat you!»

Learned myself cause nobody said «let me teach you»

We follow the same road but we know where it leads to

Chrome 380 drive me crazy cause it’s fun to clap

My tit rader, callin out more hoes than Thundercats

In that burberry like a yuppie lumberjack

But you don’t see the pattern till I take the coat off blunderblack

Rolled up, ready for brain acupuncture

Then I took the hoodie off the clit and didn’t much her

Welcome to the strangest of days, there’s dangerous ways

You find death, I found it in the angelin haze

Johnny Mnemonic with the Bubonic in the leathergoose

Fuck the North Face, it’s what I got underneath that’s weatherproof

And when it jump out to speak

It’ll greet you with a flash of light

Then leave you in a box cause the worms need you

Come and see Hell’s house, whatever bleeds yells out

And the first two letters of my click is «WE» spelled out

The locals hate me, cause the locals love me

Every piece of shit emcee with a dream from here can’t touch me

«Fuck me!»

— That’s what they hoes yell out, lovin the penis

Tight like the rims in the street with the rubber between us

Everytime I whipe my ass or get cloudy

Ten local rappers wanna write a song about me

In and out of the hash like I’m in and out of the blue mesk

In and out of my mind like I’m in and out of the US

Drip swet to NY, dip wet then get high

And thank G.O.D.

Al-Qaida wasn’t in the sky