You just uh, you know, but me
I'm just washing dishes
You know, busting suds
That's what a house husband does
With or without an industry buzz
There's no force left
And I contemplated eating with some forceps
I wish I had a corvette like a k**er rapper
Cause rap fables end happily iller after
They're all still a bachelor with gorilla stature
And there's no rats' head code to liver cancer [?]
No clogged drains or broken dog chains
No fog, rain or blacked out ball games
I waited all day 'til the time was right
I let the sun fade, not when it's shining bright
Picked out a beat for a song I would write tonight
And start with a teaspoon or a tiny knife
And then it's dynamite
Instant daydreaming
Different time, different day, different place even
I hope Ace'll never get sent to paste eating
He's from a very old race full of space heathens
But now it's late evening
I'm still busting suds
That's what a house husband does
With pants full of Mississippi mud
And other crud that just won't' budge
And maybe I should just grow bud
Or rap wearing disco duds
Anything to get more buzz
Rent an old Volkswagen bug
Spray paint it gold and try to follow Slug on tour
A million ideas but I'm so unsure
If I could only bubble like the soap suds
Then I would've blown up an any given malady with no known cure
50 is a millionaire
I wonder if he ever runs out of silverware
Big axe fade away like silver chair
Broke rappers go nuts and join the militar-y
Somewhere gorilla bear sneaks making mixtape cuts over Dilla snares tweaked
But me, I'm just washing dishes
I got wet sleeves
Don't make dishes while I'm scrubbing, that's a pet peeve (I really really hate that)
But me, I'm just washing dishes
Trying to help around the house more, making income instead of out-pour
Enough about my sh**, let's talk about yours