Cloudy

Cloudy, muggy, the day's all shitty as hell
Fighting fainting spells, the city's the rail
Quarter delay at a quarter to six
I'm sorry lady done stepped on my kicks, voluptuous tricks
Fucking around, and it sucks to be you
But I guess living a lie is a luxury too
It's probably plain to say that some strange days
And any which way let a man convey it
Commit to his terms no need for concern
From his own mistakes, yeah baby you must learn
Hand full of tricks, A fist full of motivation
Flailing punches, swinging without hesitation
Snooping around, ain't no buried treasure
It's just sunken ships and short-lived pleasures
It's the simple things that brick up a foundation
Like a mound of patience gets you a pound of weight
I'm hating cause there ain't much love in my life
It's just drugs, jobs, and a bundle of gripes. (What?)
Haven't you heard, it's a modern condition
A band of glitches, and a mob of bitching
A crowd of adversaries, the more the merrier
I ain't going down without a fight till my burial
You broke the barrier, and fell off it's spokes
Now it's tumbling down and it's waking the folks

(Chorus)

Guess these ailments come along with the territory
A better story, now you're telling me what's better for me
Mellow shorty, wanna chill with the kinfolk
Smoke weed and be down with those inside jokes. (haha)
Bubble(?) of mischief, let's take you to the disco
There's talk of the demo, but still no disc, though
Provoke panic, how strange they demand it
In a city of millions, how one can feel stranded
Hand to the heart, now one can feel the tempo
One empty bottle and one written-verse memento
All in all, still sorta like a good day
One Ice Cube for this growing pain tooth-ache
Baked on a Monday, the missus is still snoring
Ignoring the phony, imagination is soaring
Designing Women with a fat ass like Delta Burke
Working girls still find time just to make it work
B-b-back to the drawing board
Scribbled her vaguely
Jot then a mock, frown, "Why the long face, B?"
Neglect is heard, I must have been stabbed or something
Blood curdling, the wound is now settling
In stitches, the broken hand counts riches
Was it his heart, maybe they broke his spirit
Only time will tell, they've just began to hear it
The mic's torrid, you can't come near it