Royce da 5'9", Kid Vishis, Sucka Free - Weatherman lyrics

Yeah mIC records
Yeah

I show up looking like money
That diamond chain on
Bitches is dick swinging
Getting their hang on
Expensive frames on, touch me
Your ass is grass speaking of grass
This stripper's tryna get rained on
I'm rich, but I ain't no drug dealer
I hang with them
I can talk business and talk
Shit on the same phone my kidney floating
I'm drinking like I'm supposed to
They call me Frank The Tank in the hood
I'm old school
I keep a different bitch in the
Car when I roll though
Nigga, I be bringing out more
Hoes than the shows do
You got a girl, nigga, I got girls, nigga
The difference between us is
My penis is plural, nigga
I'm nicknaming my car
Call it "Ass In The Martin"
You niggas living like rats
In a shackled apartment
Take that back, that's wack
It's the fact that you bought it
I act retarded
My mind's on the back of a carton
I never thought that I'd see the
Day that rappers was blogging
They sound hungry but them
Niggas is actually starving
Perhaps it's the chardonnay I'm
At the crib sipping you niggas working
But dig this here what different
You're working out in the gym
How 'bout we kill niggas
We exercise by gun running and wig lifting
Sig spitting, the pimps see us
We're big pimping
I don't be sniffing no cane
But that shit is tempting

Weatherman with that change
I make it rain on them
Weatherman with that thing
I go insane on them let a ho give me brain
The numbers change on them
When the cheddar go on their heads
Bullets got names on them

Weatherman in my hood, I make it snow there
Posted on blocks
Getting higher than a goat there
If you're liking the flow, then nigga
You're a cokehead oh yeah
This thing on my waist got a
Kick like a steel toe
Earring wearing cutie, ring wearing elbow
MIC chain saying hello
I'm looking cool in the whip
You niggas looking jello
Plus you got the pie face
I got more goons than Tom
Got friends on MySpace
Never hungry, no thanks
I ate, look mama, my plate's scrapped
They say the burbs don't make killers
We got them bodybags in
We're making a killing
You niggas snitching, we got the paperwork
Without no wheels, I still have a way to work
Welcome to the barbershop
Where we all keep cutters, not a knife
But a chopper motherfucker
Real street smart, i can teach heart
My crew rock solid
Y'all just trying to be hard
We love our kids, we're always overseas
But we hardly ever see ours
You can't rewind that time like a DVR
Y'all not, we are
We ball, stay fresh to death
We gon' see y'all

Weatherman with that change
I make it rain on them
Weatherman with that thing
I go insane on them let a ho give me brain
The numbers change on them
When the cheddar go on their heads
Bullets got names on them

I write raps with crack rocks on black paper
Rhyme savior, new grind, time to cake up
You're getting money, nigga pay up
You said you're balling
So thou give me two like a lay up
Real lyricist, been RAW
You ain't never been shit
That's why I don't fuck with you
Untouchable me, look and find V
In the Murcielago with a Birkin model
I'm known wherever I go, Chicago to Oslo
You ain't been across the water
Since they shut down Boblo
Streetwise volatile, but as far as music
You can call me Pablo
The rest of y'all the Cubans prime contender
Plus I roll with the king like I set
A screen on one of LeBron's defenders
And the hoes want me like
The clothes that say Doce
No bae, that's Do-che, you need an upgrade
You boys are funny, I rap for money, silly
And I been to more countries than
You monkeys been to cities
Man, I grind everyday
The only thing you know 'bout hustling
Is the dance at a cabaret
And we cop that, mac 11's cock that
That beretta cock back
What you spit is not rap
I'm a pimp, what you want, Black, White
Or Asian cars reserved
Only bring them out on occasion
When I do, soon as I meet her
I hit the diva bust and she leave it on her
Face like it's Noxzema
She was scream like she was
Possessed by a demon
Working on that cock and I
Pay her with my semen
You insecurely hate 'cause you see Royce
And Mike B the only ones left
In the D with jewelry
But hate on, hater, the AR spray y'all
This fade all
I say y'all can lay down or lay off

Weatherman with that change
I make it rain on them
Weatherman with that thing
I go insane on them let a ho give me brain
The numbers change on them
When the cheddar go on their heads
Bullets got names on them