| I met shorty at the mall
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| Her bra holdin two d-cups of jello
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| My socks yellow from leaky — Hello!
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| What a bag would do to you
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| When the doobiest move me to a piece of property
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| Forget what I just put the groupie through
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| Got her spinnin to the angel, dizzy to diesel
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| Roll up the PCP-lease, I’m busy with evil
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| My hand on the tit, I’m commandin her clit
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| Disband of this shit, nobody knows but it’s expandin the chips
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| Chicks wanna touch I might go shoot up the fruits in her
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| Dip in my mouth lookin like I’m recruited by Lucifer
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| Ain’t like what I roll up is anti-religious
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| But it’s like I copped in chinatown, I would slant eyes the bitches
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| This is for my Weather People, them clever people
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| Haters should speak against cause they were never equals
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| Drug-fiends, I was happy to beat you
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| What you tell the ex hoes? |
| «I'm sorry I ain’t treat you!»
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| Learned myself cause nobody said «let me teach you»
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| This ain’t for the Middletown people I still see through
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| This is for my Weather People, them clever people
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| Haters should speak against cause they were never equals
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| Dust-fiends, I was happy to beat you
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| What you tell the ex ho? |
| «I'm sorry I ain’t eat you!»
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| Learned myself cause nobody said «let me teach you»
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| We follow the same road but we know where it leads to
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| Chrome 380 drive me crazy cause it’s fun to clap
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| My tit rader, callin out more hoes than Thundercats
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| In that burberry like a yuppie lumberjack
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| But you don’t see the pattern till I take the coat off blunderblack
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| Rolled up, ready for brain acupuncture
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| Then I took the hoodie off the clit and didn’t much her
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| Welcome to the strangest of days, there’s dangerous ways
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| You find death, I found it in the angelin haze
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| Johnny Mnemonic with the Bubonic in the leathergoose
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| Fuck the North Face, it’s what I got underneath that’s weatherproof
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| And when it jump out to speak
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| It’ll greet you with a flash of light
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| Then leave you in a box cause the worms need you
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| Come and see Hell’s house, whatever bleeds yells out
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| And the first two letters of my click is «WE» spelled out
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| The locals hate me, cause the locals love me
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| Every piece of shit emcee with a dream from here can’t touch me
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| «Fuck me!» |
| — That’s what they hoes yell out, lovin the penis
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| Tight like the rims in the street with the rubber between us
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| Everytime I whipe my ass or get cloudy
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| Ten local rappers wanna write a song about me
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| In and out of the hash like I’m in and out of the blue mesk
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| In and out of my mind like I’m in and out of the US
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| Drip swet to NY, dip wet then get high
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| And thank G.O.D. |
| Al-Qaida wasn’t in the sky |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Weather People , by - Cage. Song from the album Weatherproof, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп