Lyrics Made You Shit Your Pants - The Weathermen, Cage, Copywrite

Made You Shit Your Pants

You can go fuck yourself if you don’t feel it
All it took is liquor, marijuana, six strippers in a sauna
Pen and pad, now I got buzz quicker than Nirvana
First, you non-violent, now you in your verse wildin'?
Your only criminal record is BDP’s first album
Cop purple haze and be the first to blaze
When cops roll up everybody in my circle stays
Fuck your baby mama on Mother’s Day
Dump my blunt ashes in that bitch’s purse
When she turn her head the other way
I’m foul, and don’t give a shit what a motherfucka say
Live it up till each minutes up we might not get another day
In a truck, tinted up, yeah It’s rented but
This chick won’t know that, till after she licks my bozack!!!
Get my Prozac, I’m like Tony Soprano
The way I kill Big Pussy and my bitch don’t know that
They shootin'!
Aww, made you shit your pants
Better call your bitch, forget your mans
Stickin' his honey, playboy she mine now
Where my Weathermen at?
Follow the dime cloud
They shootin'!
Aww, made you shit your pants
Better call your bitch, forget your mans
Stickin' his honey, playboy she mine now
Where my Weathermen at?
Follow the dime cloud
First name Yakko, what you know about Yak though?
Weathermen, prime specimen with my pants low
See this is where the barkin' stops
And my dogs need to show, walkin' my shit to the parkin' lot
Whoa, they shootin' aww, we made it hot, fuck it
But we encouragin' sprayin' the cops
Trust me dog you don’t want no bad blood between us
I’m movin' up you still play the back of the club
I’m ballin, you pourin' you starvin' like orphans, you punks
We warrin', you fallin' and sleepin' in coffins, you front
I change your fate ain’t nuthin' changed that my claim
Hittin' stars like it ain’t a thang
We ghetto entrepreneurs, rap connoisseurs
Who like our weed with crystals in it and our women on all fours
So let the truth be told, haters can hate me now
But save the drama for a movie role
Police shootin'!
Aww we made it hot
They got the bomb squad, and raidin' with SWAT
Don’t make a motherfucka break your locks, playa
Right where the robbery’s at;
scene of the crime’s at
They shootin'!
Aww we made it hot
They got the bomb squad, and raidin' with SWAT
Don’t make a motherfucka break your locks, playa
Right where the robbery’s at;
scene of the crime’s at
P. S.K.
playin' I’m saying neurotic shit
Y’all look to the clouds, asked for the Weather and got it
Whether I’m potted or blotted out of this orbit, absorb shit
Cause only five percent don’t really want to be corporate!
Most of y’all favorite artists made y’all slaves to garbage
The influence’ll drop, they rape the carcass
Then it’s off to the livin' for cannibalism, no kidding
Cause rap is dying and they ain’t make no ribbon
I’m thinkin' of the stress, and the air I breathe through
Drugs don’t fund terrorists, SUV’s do!
But y’all don’t want me to point it out I’m assuming
Just remember to turn on and tune out, after you tune in!