Open Mike Eagle - Leave People Alone lyrics

Published

0 264 0

Open Mike Eagle - Leave People Alone lyrics

[Intro] I'ma tell you not to tell other people what to do That is a specialized ma**ick trip (magic, not ma**ick) Magic trick You have to be an adept to pull this off Or put it on [Hook] Wash your hands, make no demands Try to mind your own business Wash your hands, make no demands Try to mind your own business It ain't even cold, people layer up And lady luck gave a f** what you making up Sometimes pain's even smaller than a paper cut And while you all up in her face she done faced enough In LA people judge you if you take the bus And rich folks say "hey, come to space with us" What? [Verse 1] You should be polite you big dummy Shut the f** up and let that bank get money Look around your house for paintings left crooked Fix 'em, and when you done keep pushing And maybe there's some dust around your couch cushions Try to know your congressman without looking Try to know what bills is wild and outlandish And who's on what committee for house action I don't know either You just seem bored Fox News shows and bowls of cream corn Now I'm being judgemental, I get so pissed f** political talk, you don't know sh** f** subliminal talk, you don't know sh** Conspiracy theorists, stop, you don't know sh** Alex Jones and Glenn Beck are like peers Modern profiteers of a cultural fear [Hook] Wash your hands, make no demands Try to mind your own business Wash your hands, make no demands Try to mind your own business It ain't even cold, people layer up And lady luck gave a f** what you making up Sometime pain's even smaller than a paper cut And while you all up in her face she done faced enough In LA people judge you if you take the bus And rich folks say "hey come to space with us" What? [Verse 2] Hi it's me again, hi Sometimes I don't even know why I say things All my heroes are singers that can't sing I wanna paint things but can't hold still I miss my grandmother's smile and her oatmeal When I f** up I know how a goat feels Remember when the homie Driver dropped Roadk**? That sh** was so ill And he's a friend now The troglodyte won, now he's prehensile Or maybe troglodytes was to begin with Somebody turns to the “t”s in the appendix Since I don't make much, I'm a spendthrift I used to write dumb raps about pen spits And now I write about dumb experiences But they're very rarely the ones I have They're usually some other people's or they're just completely imaginary