haley girl - forecast lyrics
(verse 1: haley)
i see doubt moving in like clouds crowding out my fun time
cloudy skies i recognize, now shouting out “it’s crunch time”
reached in my pocket as i try and find my punchline
i drop it like it’s hot, ’cause my beat got heat like sunshine
warning: stormy hip hop weather be forming
every blow they throw at me, oh i’ll be so absorbent
forecast for more of that chick rap recording
i’ll pay for you to play this rap, i’m that affording
according to the day, the grey sky’s resorting
thank you, news anchor, for your fast reporting
is that you snoring? am i really that boring?
is it ’cause my squeaky pinky sneaks that i am sporting?
roarin’, the crowd’s loud after i’m scoring
i try and scr-pe the sky, so high i am soaring
put the pedal to the metal so i am flooring
and kick it in the rain when the fame is pouring
(hook: haley)
your luck’s stacked up (they say, they say, they say)
as your knuckles crack up (they say, they say, they say)
the numbers don’t add up (they say)
stand your ground, or just pack up (they say, they say)
they say put away your mitt ’cause your spit’s not catchy
the line in your rhyme, too straight, etch-a-sketchy
trying to be a star, you ain’t far fetchy
don’t like my jam? d-mn, hetch hetchy
(verse 2: haley)
if it sounds like i’m convincing you, it’s probably true
because i probably need convincing, too
i keep trying to leave it, pretend my eyes don’t even see it
pretend like i don’t even need it to be or believe it
when i get the time to finally get these lines down
make the find to timely get these rhymes down
right now, so i don’t forget my lines now
right now, so i don’t forget my rhymes now
i don’t think outside the box – i sneak along the edges
pushing envelopes as i creep along the ledges
if the proof is in the pudding then i’m getting out my snack pack
grab a spoon, i got more left in my backpack
haley girl, why you trying to rap that?
the world will be dying just to ask that
have you ever had that thing that you can’t mask?
well, i got this thing, this dream that i can’t p-ss
(hook: haley)
your luck’s stacked up (they say, they say, they say)
as your knuckles crack up (they say, they say, they say)
the numbers don’t add up (they say)
stand your ground, or just pack up (they say, they say)
they say put away your mitt ’cause your spit’s not catchy
the line in your rhyme, too straight, etch-a-sketchy
trying to be a star, you ain’t far fetchy
don’t like my jam? d-mn, hetch hetchy
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