| You just uh, you know, but me
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| I’m just washing dishes
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| You know, busting suds
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| That’s what a house husband does
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| With or without an industry buzz
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| There’s no forks left
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| And I contemplated eating with some forceps
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| I wish I had a corvette like a killer rapper
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| Cause rap fables end happily iller after
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| They’re all still a bachelor with gorilla stature
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| And there’s no rats' head code to liver cancer
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| No clogged drains or broken dog chains
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| No fog, rain or blacked out ball games
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| I waited all day 'til the time was right
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| I let the sun fade, not when it’s shining bright
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| Picked out a beat for a song I would write tonight
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| And start with a teaspoon or a tiny knife
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| And then it’s dynamite
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| Instant daydreaming
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| Different time, different day, different place even
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| I hope Aesa never gets into paste eating
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| He’s from a very old race full of space heathens
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| But now it’s late evening
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| I’m still busting suds
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| That’s what a house husband does
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| With pans full of Mississippi mud
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| And other crud that just won’t budge
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| And maybe I should just grow bud
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| Or rap wearing disco duds
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| Anything to get more buzz
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| Rent an old Volkswagen bug
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| Spray paint it gold and try to follow Slug on tour
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| A million ideas but I’m so unsure
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| If I could only bubble like the soap suds
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| Then I would’ve blown up an any given malady with no known cure
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| If 50 is a millionaire
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| I wonder if he ever runs out of silverware
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| Big acts fade away like Silverchair
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| Broke rappers go nuts and join the militar-y
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| Somewhere gorilla bear sneaks making mixtape cuts over Dilla snares tweaked
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| But me, I’m just washing dishes
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| I got wet sleeves
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| Don’t make dishes while I’m scrubbing, that’s a pet peeve (I really,
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| really hate that)
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| But me, I’m just washing dishes
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| Trying to help around the house more, making income instead of out-pour
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| Enough about my shit, let’s talk about yours
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| Let’s talk about yours
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| (Yea, uh, we done)
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| Yo man, this the Alph-Boss, man
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| Alpha MC, Swim Team rapper/producer
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| But you know if you doin' this music independent shit
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| You gotta have a day job, you knowmsayin'?
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| Me, personally, I ship hula hoops, all around the world
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| It’s a new fitness trend, you knowmsayin'?
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| We got one pound, two pound hula hoops
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| Decorated with glittery tape, you knowmsayin'?
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| We ship 'em all around the world
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| Just yesterday, I shipped two hundred hoops to Iraq |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dishes, artist - Open Mike Eagle feat. DakAlbum song Rappers Will Die of Natural Causes (Reissue), in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп