| See I don’t ever talk about the weather
|
| I wear a long coat made of chickadee feathers
|
| Well I squawk loud
|
| When I’m pushing through a rush hour crowd
|
| On the way to your house
|
| And it’s a low life, baby
|
| Aristocrats sippin' fine wine
|
| Ain’t my perception of a good time
|
| It’s what I’m having
|
| Where do I sign?
|
| I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on
|
| Since I was fourteen
|
| Repped it hard like I was James Dean
|
| Giving chickadees some wet jeans
|
| When I rolled through I made it my scene
|
| She was a tall lady
|
| Six feet plus and making men crazy
|
| I hollered at her from my blue Mercedes
|
| Now she walk the streets for me daily
|
| See I don’t ever talk about the weather
|
| I wear a long coat made of chickadee feathers
|
| Well I squawk loud
|
| When I’m pushing through a rush hour crowd
|
| On the way to your house
|
| And it’s a low life, baby
|
| Aristocrats sippin' fine wine
|
| Ain’t my perception of a good time
|
| It’s what I’m having
|
| Where do I sign?
|
| I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on
|
| I know it ain’t right
|
| Making money off her backside
|
| But you know she ain’t no cheap ride
|
| So Rockafellas call me late night (ah yeah)
|
| She was made for it
|
| So she might as well get laid for it
|
| And I might as well get paid for it
|
| 'Cause in the end I’m gonna pay for it
|
| See I don’t ever talk about the weather
|
| I wear a long coat made of chickadee feathers
|
| Well I squawk loud
|
| When I’m pushing through a rush hour crowd
|
| On the way to your house
|
| And it’s a low life, baby
|
| Aristocrats sippin' fine wine
|
| Ain’t my perception of a good time
|
| It’s what I’m having
|
| Where do I sign?
|
| I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on
|
| Where do I sign?
|
| I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on
|
| Where do I sign?
|
| I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on
|
| Straight to hell laughing, come on
|
| See I don’t ever talk about the weather
|
| I wear a long coat made of chickadee feathers
|
| Well I squawk loud
|
| When I’m pushing through a rush hour crowd
|
| On the way to your house
|
| And it’s a low life, baby
|
| Aristocrats sippin' fine wine
|
| Ain’t my perception of a good time
|
| It’s what I’m having
|
| Where do I sign?
|
| I’ll go straight to hell laughing, come on |