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letra de the rain - bishop lamont

[intro: liz rodrigues]
one…
two…
three…
four…

[hook]
waiting for the rain
mirror in the hallway, no reflection
i think i’ve gone insane
letters on the wall give me direction

[verse 1: bishop lamont]
it’s friday night, i’m just sittin at home..
in the zone with the tv on
lookin at beyonce with some s-xy sh-t on
thinkin jay better be hittin that sh-t right, holmes
oooooh~!! n-gga, i would — {-phone rings-} phone ring
interupt me from my dream, it’s my n-gga naseem (“ah sh-t, w-ssup my n-gga?”)
on the other end like
(“dude, what it do? it’s ya b-day n-gga, we got partyin to do!”)
nah, i’mma chill at the crib, take it slow
bust a b-tch here, it really ain’t nowhere to go
(“h-ll no! you remember them b-tches from the show?”) – naw
(“and two bad b-tches i met at the club dancin?”) – aight
(“called me up, talkin ’bout some party at her mansion”)
homie, it’s rainin, i ain’t trippin off that
(“well n-gga i am, that white b-tch -ss was fat
f-ck that, we rollin, be there in thirty, holla back!”)

[hook]

[verse 2: bishop lamont]
wait a minute..
i hear a h-rn beep, it’s naseem in the driveway (“here i come, man!”)
and a voice sayin, “bishop don’t go, stay”
i brushed it off, hopped in, we slowly drove away
tryna joke and sh-t, but the feeling won’t go away
it’s like i’m heavy in a cloud of dread
i’m lifeless, numb like i’m already dead
i turn the music up, flirt with the b-tches in back (“yo w-ssup?”)
yeah they pretty, feelin giddy off of purple kush sack
forty minutes later, i’m like, “where the f-ck we at?”
out in the middle of nowhere, the roads is pitch black
finally we p-ssed thru some creepy -ss gates
up a tall winding hill to a plush -ss estate
arrive inside, not too packed but it’s poppin
had a few drinks, b-tches already jockin
macked a cute freak, it’s goin down for sure
then the music go out, they pull out a ouija board – what the f-ck?

[hook]

[verse 3: bishop lamont]
yeah, they on some weird sh-t
(“what the f-ck are these weirdos doin, man?”) i just sit back and watch
said they tryna summon kurt cobain and 2pac
i ain’t witht hat satan sh-t, this is where it stops
grab they keys, “naseem n-gga, it’s back to the block” (“f-ck that!”)
baby like, “naw don’t freak, it’s just a game
we did this last time, it’s the same ol’ thang” (“sh-t”)
she grabbed me by the arms, pulled me back on the couch
got that feeling like, “leave n-gga, you need to get out!”
while i think, another drink, even hit some weed
watch they hands cross the boards start to glide slowly
they ask, “who’s with us?”
it slides towards p — then a — and c
weed got me stuck {-coughs-}, i don’t believe what i see
it starts movin fast, it spells m-o-b
they ask, “who k!lled you?” then it just freeze
and flies off the board, a voice screamed, “suge shot me”
they laugh and turn the lights up
but i don’t find it funny, that sh-t was f-cked up
i hops out my seat, i’m ready to leave
but my head starts swirlin and my nose begin to bleed (“aw..sh-t!”)
i can’t stand, i stagger, almost fall
naseem catch me, walk me to the bathroom down the hall
a shadow rushes for me, i p-ss out in the stall
wake up, blood on the floor, it’s on the walls
glock in my hand, it’s a bl–dy -ss scene
ev’rybody dead and my n-gga naseem
out the window, flashing lights to the sirens
forget i gripped the glock, run out, they open fire
(“drop the weapon! freeze! freeze!”) {-gunshots-}

[hook]

- bishop lamont

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