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Correct Raps For When It's Just You & The Abyss Lyrics
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Open Mike Eagle
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Correct Raps For When It's Just You & The Abyss
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Lyrics:
[Verse 1] Yeah, I'm in a room 30 mile south of Malibu Pacing around, tryna make something powerful, yeah I sit awake, baked on the shower stool The cookie faced king had to surgically get his crown removed Get up and go to the john My only worry is the frequency my vocals is on And my lady gets her hair cuts at the local salon And doesn't have to hide from ISIS and Boko Haram Dang, I feel a strange kinship to every man Heavy hand, tremble my memories, need a steady cam My mind's made clothes, and videos that R. Kelly had Barely had time to think, the world moves very fast And life is a mystery school, I'm on the airplane learning social delivery cues Fool, I can drink a whole infinity pool And make impassioned bar speeches from a rickety stool yeah Trying to make shit that sounds Grand Budapest With the same hand that slams his computer desk And every day I'm bumping Cinnamon Girl Tryna promote these rap shows when it's the end of the motherfucking world [Hook] You used to be one of the rotten ones and I liked you for that You used to be one of the rotten ones and I liked you for that You used to be one of the rotten ones and I liked you for that And now you're all gone, got your makeup on And you're not coming back [Verse 2] I've seen a lot of shit disappear and reappear I'm 34 on Earth but measure me in Venus years I'm so right-brained I can't grow an even beard I wonder if I balance shit out, would things seem as weird They say it is above as it is below My skin is so hot but my heart beat is 10 below In the cold barracks daydreaming about a centerfold I answer only questions it's easiest to pretend to know It's hard being brick and mortar creatures My thoughts have to fit in phones and through computer speakers I was pretty geeked about my LA weekly feature I showed it to my dad, my barber and my piano teacher I'm tryna get discovered like a nectar bat The cookie-face can and can't remember where his scepter's at Eyes mad low, grin wide, just like a cheshire cat Got four dimensional skin my chin is a tesseract I'm tryna tour for 3 weeks in a mobile home This Chopped basket's milk, a peach, and some provolone Talk to myself loud and speak in a boastful tone My inner monologue is Com's speech from the Golden Globes Some folks leave rap and never look back If you tried it yourself, you would have understood that Make films, play ball right or even cook crack My famous homies picked the right shit to get good at, yeah [Hook] [Outro] x2 My computer club nights, forever Not gonna die, we just multiply Forever, forever, forever, forever And ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever
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