[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
[Verse 2: Copywrite]
You’ll shit your drawers before I spit two bars
I’m everything you’re ashamed to admit you are
When God said, “Let there be light,” I appeared
You thought I debuted on World Premiere? I was here
Made a blind man tell me what color my eyes are
Made a deaf girl complain on what level the highs are
Last one to cyph with us, I sliced them up. To whom
I’m shitting on, you ain’t nice enough to waste a written on
The Weathermen, we’re coming up to get you
I can’t think of a stage name dumb enough to fit you, I’ll hit you
With six two-by-fours, crews I floor
Pick up his watch, turn to his bitch like, “You my whore!”
I’m too hot—stop this man. When I was born
Third-degree burns were left on the doctor’s hands
You want mine? The mic’s your dad’s buckle
These punchlines are spiked with brass knuckles
Underwater I breathe and move quicker than you
I know heads that been dead for decades sicker than you
They’re my dogs, I’ll sick ‘em on you, and my pets
Are vicious. Shit, I’m the owner—go fetch my slippers
Besides us, there ain’t too many ripping
My brainstorm floods with enough thought for y’all to skinny-dip in
And I forever burn steady since Adam
Was put in a garden. If y’all weren’t ready, you shouldn’t have started
[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