Raps for When It's Just You and the Abyss - Open Mike Eagle

Yeah, I’m in the wrong 30 mile south of Malibu

Pacing around, tryina 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

queues

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

Tryina promote these rap shows when it’s the end of the motherfucking world

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

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 tryina get discovered like a

The cookie faced king he can’t remember where preceptors at

Eyes mad low, grin wide, just like a cheshire cat

Got four dimensional skin my chin is a tesseract

I’m tryina tour for 3 weeks in a mobile home

This gets milk, a peach and some Provolone

Talk to myself loud and speak in a boastful tone

My inner monologue is calm, 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

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