Brougham - I Walked In lyrics

[Hook] Now the party didn't start until I walked in And I probably won't leave before the thing ends But in the mean time, the in-between time You go for yours, I'll go for mine [Verse 1: Luke Sick] Now I don't mind you ignoring me no more Like a fully clothed ho at the peep show Eyes on squint, I call it Chinese tint It ain't about a b**h, my life is a synch Your boy Luke Sick is half retarded Other half smart enough to know it don't matter Care less bout face when that acts like worm cake Head that's longer than five minutes to lunch break Highs to a hurdler, fly milk curdler Cry, but we're selling fake seats at the Phish concert I'm in the kitchen cupcake filling s**er MC battling Got his girl giggling I jelly bean crushed him He got embarra**ed, stole her see-through shoes And jacked the pumpkin carriage Now it's ten to twelve and she ain't got time I said, "Ten minutes baby, cool, I only need nine." It was push with shove in the bush with a glove It was soak and snug, then the jig was up The spell wore off, so I had to diss her Made an amateur flick with the evil step-sisters [Hook] [Verse 2: Luke Sick] Party to party, I manage Cause I travel with no baggage Unless you count her naggin' In that case I'm draggin' Otherwise, I strive to be forever wise Lies I stay deaf to, but my eyes hear the silent cries Deranged plane to take our plank on poets Those who double over moaning Pain is appropriate No longer wait for the faith to make me know Started off drunk, them hoes ended up sad, alone Little did you realize, I don't want to get hired Tired, out of touch Use my couch as a crutch, much Mini-mall is murder gripe truck stop lifestyle Pile on projects of apocalyptic reasons Ain't it splended? Your whole life seems pretended The world feels large when you're raised by the television A tiskit a tasket, a condom of a casket Drastic measures taking all the pleasure that I'm fakin' Naked, rich skanks though, bouncing my bank notes Blatantly gross chapped lips and cancker sores Pails, pots and pans and a bottle on the kitchen floor Hand the wooden spoon to the toddler and press record [Hook] [Verse 3: Luke Sick] A poem's just a poem A record's just a record A kiss is just a kiss When your s** is misdirected We're so far from love and so close to Hell Thought you couldn't catch up But you were chasing your tail I try to freshen it up But it's old and stale I teach a lesson in love When you're born to fail On my knees, scavenger Unsacked pa**ager Unplug your life support And disconnect your catheter I know you wear Depends undergarments It's not pretend, your girl's vibing on it At the champagne brunch French toast, eggs benedict I got your beggar, top-shelf margaritas I'll feed ya pinballs til your windpipe's gone Get your fingers out my catalog Cause your style's sour egg nog Please cease perusing my inventory Before your crew's singing blues in the mortuary I leave thoughts on the window Like John Davis getting justice To the bu*t-naked burrow chick I sip suds with Sniff closer, her whole kit is so buff to me Informercials for my lyrical cutlery [Hook]