Burner Account - Open Mike Eagle, Armand Hammer

One, two

I’m half ghost, half baby

The fat lady sang, it was bars I ghost-wrote

Tryna make my way to Mars so I can sell dope guilt free

Project buildings built me

And I done felt everything except free

It’s too much trauma, it’s not a rom-com

Countin' the dust bunnies on the end of the pom poms

Big Mom’s oxtails, get down Roswell

Swans get carpet bombed with blonde bombshells

I used to hate Los Angeles

I’m scared of police, it’s part of a weight loss regimen

And I’m spared from false radio hellos

Makin' sure the bass slaps, Ndegeocello

In my hood, watch for enemy headbands

Sick folks cop glittery bedpans

Hand in my nose like I’m literally Redman

You do the homework

My corner’s so flamed up, my Bluetooth don’t work

Got caught trying to pay for a YouTube growth spurt

That’s illegal

Holder of the latch key, fool, I wrote the jingle

Call her, get a bonus, make it a maxi single

I talk big shit, but not quite bilingual

Tell my grandkids the regular flu was hot

Dude’s hid in a computer, duckin' a booster shot

You saw it too, but you forgot

Submersible with the woofer jumpin'

If it’s pressure, that’s where the cooking come in

Couple onions, somethin' pungent

Crystals like Fun Dip

Just a big kid stunnin'

Toxic, bite me, put a hole in your stomach

Feed your dogs chocolate

Blunted at 30k, might rush the cockpit

Out of body movin' out of order, not out of line

Altering time, not integrity

New living memory

No other space but now, wow

They just move me

Call it on down

I asked her, what’s your Funkentelechy

We hold this myth to be a comfort in the crosshair

The information vacant, I’m assuming warfare

Staring at the score, I just wanna light the board up

The fourth, don’t get caught up

In the studio, talkin' crazy for a check

Stephen A. Smith, brother said he gotta get it while it’s there to get

He wasn’t there when they was shootin' in the Jects, I bet

But every project sound like he rushin' to the next

He the type to bag it up wet

Fuck up the package and blame the connect

Yo, yo

Eighth like brick

Earth audible black

Pump fakes in haste

We waste not for wacks

Strange time to snoop

Hands high, relax

Increase the dose, paradise the patch

Mint for the vax, almost dragged it to my garden

Ain’t bring me none, I beg your pardon

How many gods do I remind you of?

Debate amongst yourselves

Yourselves, yourselves

Yourselves, yourselves

Yourselves, yourselves

Yourselves, yourselves