BoatHouse, Open Mike Eagle and Closed Sessions - Whiskey and Push-Ups

Back in my dumb bag
Dont scroll past
Double back and give it a
Double tap it and thumb drag

Back in my cold shit
That old spit
That baggier clothes fit
With no happy faces lasers and glow sticks

Vision salient
Gray i visit aliens
I aim at African methodist episcopalian

I'm in my drop box
Downloading the com stock
At high speeds no need to
Brown nose and hob knob

I'm an unlicensed architect
With Martian tech hidden
In the verses so fiends search for the carpet specks

Dang
Deep in my language bag
Reversing the earth spin fast
So i can change the past

Black specter man
Rough like bat catcher's hands
Put a crowd in a frenzy
Masked Mexican wrestlers can

He's a top guy
High as a pop fly
I can go full gremlin
or hide nice as a mogwai

So dont feed me after midnight
Or feed me at all
I'm kinda tired of trying to reason with y'all

Back on my default
Pot of plain rice couple packets of sea salt
Sometimes the rhyme is an island with Beach balls
Swing to the right a bit to balance my see saw

This ain't my first rodeo
Came to the earth with a sickness older than polio

I'm a product of them homes
It's hard not to stumble when bass rumbled your shin bones

So I'm black Alex summers now brain stuck in a rare pinch
Chest pressure measures a hundred pounds per square inch

I got a needle for your biggest balloon
Let's hope we settle differences soon

My telephone is listening and tracking all my moves
I'm surrounded by enemies and dont know what to do

Im praying that my liver can keep filtering this booze
I'm surrounded by a darkness and
Regardless what i choose

Written by:
Mike Eagle, Aidan Sigel-Bruse

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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