The crowd had a predisposition to mob mentality — Cedar Fest still fresh on their minds — making group chants of “Weezy! Weezy!” come as if it were second nature.

They had been warmed up with a series of opening acts, including Lansing-based Harvey Lee, Chuck and Tha Twinzz, and now the audience was ready to party in a way that only Lil Wayne can facilitate.

But even after witnessing the event firsthand, I can’t put my finger on exactly what this patented party style was.

It is difficult to read the crowd at a hip-hop show of this caliber taking place at a Midwestern college town. Not to mention at a college with a reputation rooted in agriculture and farming.

There’s the kids decked out in American Eagle chic, wearing tattered baseball caps with heavily creased bills. They’re standing on a chair next to someone in a baggy, hooded sweatshirt with the bill of his hat perfectly straight, hologram tags still intact.

Across the arena, an entire row is taken up by a group of guys from the same fraternity, while MSU sports stars are peppered throughout the seats.

And just as thousands of people can come together in a climax of violent action one night, the next night there’s the unity experienced when a rapper from New Orleans hits the stage and everyone chants with him, “F—- b———! Get money!”

The guitar playing, soul singing, pelvic thrusts, indecipherable between-song-banter and all that came along with the show secured Lil Wayne’s crazy place in the hip-hop world.

Sometimes crazy can mean innovative and musically revolutionary. In other cases — like Lil Wayne’s — crazy just means crazy. But if nothing else, it’s a type of crazy that provides endless entertainment.

Dreadlocks waving in the air, and articles of clothing being removed rapidly, Lil Wayne played hits spanning about a decade. Tracks such as “The Block is Hot,” “Fireman” and his latest single “Lollipop,” received uproarious cheers.

Birdman of the Cash Money Millionaires joined him. The two bounced rhymes off each other effortlessly. Birdman’s cool demeanor made the absurdity of Lil Wayne’s performance stand out even more.

A few times during the show, the beats were stripped away — “getting back to the basics,” as Lil Wayne called it — and soulful a cappella tunes were performed, addressing subjects such as performing oral sex.

I don’t know who told Lil Wayne it was a good idea to play a guitar during the show. Despite his almost complete inability to play the instrument, he succeeded in writhing around the stage with it while plucking a single string.

“Make noise for my brand new guitar,” he instructed the crowd. They did.

At one point during the show, a small bag was tossed from a smoke-covered section of the crowd to the stage.

“Don’t throw your weed at me,” Lil Wayne said. “You know I got charges … and this will be on YouTube tomorrow.”

In the end, the arena was filled with an air of transcendence.

A crowd of people can overcome its differences and get down.

A rapper can be nonsensical and still be a hit. And thousands of people can gather in East Lansing without getting out of hand.