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