[Intro; Cage]
Yo, Weathermen, Molemen, Copywrite ‘78 and… King!
[Verse 1: Cage]
Somebody better call the cops! We’ll throw rocks and smash shit
‘Cause I’m down to the most intricate ligament detachment action
Closed-captions are the gross fractions
Of the percentage of songwriters that host caskets
Wanna see the Cage album or get clapped to hear it?
Bludgeon you to death, minutes later shooting your spirit
Shooting a porn I got a quick role, empty the clip
In this bitch, fuck the wound ‘til the slug’s up in my dick hole
Wasting mine and the crowd’s time
Thought you had beef standing there with a cow’s spine
And I’m eating the heart
Get beaten apart, painting with your arms, leaking the art
Somebody get this kid a bandage
While I’m stabbing where your adrenaline gland is in front of cameras
Trying to balance a nuclear warhead on your forehead
Pulling soul food through your stomach to dip the cornbread
[Hook: Copywrite]
Fucking with us, we’ll leave you stuck in the dirt
With your fiancé and my fingers up in her skirt
Weathermen for life as long as I’m stuck on the Earth
And if a bitch don’t swallow, what the fuck is she worth?
(We get grimy!) Haven’t showered for days, flies behind me
(Grimy!) I can pick your lock in six seconds—time me
(Grimy!) Ain’t give a shit if you like me or don’t like me
As long as when you see us, you keep your mouth locked tightly
Yo, Weathermen, Molemen, Copywrite ‘78 and… King!
[Verse 1: Cage]
Somebody better call the cops! We’ll throw rocks and smash shit
‘Cause I’m down to the most intricate ligament detachment action
Closed-captions are the gross fractions
Of the percentage of songwriters that host caskets
Wanna see the Cage album or get clapped to hear it?
Bludgeon you to death, minutes later shooting your spirit
Shooting a porn I got a quick role, empty the clip
In this bitch, fuck the wound ‘til the slug’s up in my dick hole
Wasting mine and the crowd’s time
Thought you had beef standing there with a cow’s spine
And I’m eating the heart
Get beaten apart, painting with your arms, leaking the art
Somebody get this kid a bandage
While I’m stabbing where your adrenaline gland is in front of cameras
Trying to balance a nuclear warhead on your forehead
Pulling soul food through your stomach to dip the cornbread
[Hook: Copywrite]
Fucking with us, we’ll leave you stuck in the dirt
With your fiancé and my fingers up in her skirt
Weathermen for life as long as I’m stuck on the Earth
And if a bitch don’t swallow, what the fuck is she worth?
(We get grimy!) Haven’t showered for days, flies behind me
(Grimy!) I can pick your lock in six seconds—time me
(Grimy!) Ain’t give a shit if you like me or don’t like me
As long as when you see us, you keep your mouth locked tightly
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