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(((believe that))) - mc paul barman lyrics

[intro: samples]
“doom”
“what the h-ll is the matter with you?”

[verse 1: mc paul barman]
a response would be undignified for the dumb pig inside
i’d have to admit what i did, instead i’ll bounce, put on a wig and hide
the gig is up like a lawn chair tied to a hot air balloon on my way to nowhere but i got there too soon
every day i’m dazed and confused that there’s a million rappers yet i’m the one that comes up with the phrase that’s unused
i get a hit of dopamine for every broken dream, an openly mean coping scheme
authorial distance from corporeal existence creates stories full of misprints
what’s the difference if i pick this word or that word or if the word picks me or if i’m half-heard or if i channel challenges or walk around in bandages?
i see you as a contemporary, one temptin’ carefree night of guns and hemp in rare breeds
why do i wanna cry all the time? file this rhyme under “blunder”
i’m defiled by slime, climb to the tiptop, rip shop with the best of em
wear bright colors, fight wonder that invades my work life
i’m always off-brand, soft sand, “ahkuh” cough into my hand and then smell it
uh-oh, i need a tic-tac
kick back like a boss in a place i don’t live at
i’m on one ’cause i pull sh-t off like a condom and um i’m handsome
(((believe that)))
“girlfriend, your highlight is poppin'”
i’ve got a childlike addiction to language not open for adoption
i like writing rhymes while i’m still bleary-eyed and let freshness be my cheery guide
this one nearly died when i opened my eyes
whoever said “work hard, play hard” clearly lied
it’s a capitalist puritan aesthetic
“work well, play free” is much less dyspeptic
my downstairs neighbors scream 24/7 and to stop wishing them death will take many more reverends
plus they chainsmoke giving my family cancer and if i were a better father, we’d move to jersey which i refuse to do
it’s not unusual to serve noodle stew to my picky eater three times per day
freedom finds a way to decline and bray like a sheep
ba-aa-aah humbug, work is play
emergency, i got something urgent to say
emerging media is never going away
sea urchins spray you with saline like, “yo, what about us?”
we’re like, “sorry cow patties are more important”
while we argue about abortion, we squander our fortune
memory man you’re not the boss of me, yet you fo’cefully demand i come across on beats, particularly this one
you’re like, “it’s b-tter”
i’m like, “it’s kinda repet-tive”
give into your fast styles, let it live
i got you open like to-interpretation, i’m impatient
if i just let it flow, is it what’d be called a based style?
meanwhile back at the ranch, i comb through a case file
hmmm says here he’s been unseen ten years
grenadine grenadiers, picks up dogs by dem ears
when they’re not screaming they’re smoking
i’m not dreaming or joking
my building is teeming with broken people and i’m scheming on leaving the whole thing
i know it’s a longshot but maybe we could own a bomb spot if this song’s hot

[verse 2: open mike eagle]
i write an american dumb star-spangled verse and ride it to london where i can walk till my ankles hurt
i never came to earth, i stayed on a broken ship, saying lines from catcher of the fade to the ocean fish
i keep my poker chips on my shelf in a studio
the name’s jeffrey but i can tell them it’s julio
they call him sin cara but i can tell that it’s hunico
who makes the b-ss that you can feel in your backside
[?wrestler ?] from a backslide
if i was a preacher i’d use tap water to baptize children ’cause sparkling water would cost millions
i narrowly missed a real cool meeting with saul williams
and i saw them pictures and was like “d-mn i shoulda been there now”
i was the missing step in the consecutive hairstyles
i bear down with the pen when i feel anxious
if he was a brain surgeon, his scalpel would k!ll patients
i feel ancient but real naïve
but never gullible enough to vote for a real id
i’m very concerned that the police will k!ll my seed
shoutout to wu-tang and high chief jamil i reeve
i need some new curse words to fulfill my needs like when my new shirt breaks or if i spill my tea
hold your breath and count backwards from a mill by three
and don’t exhale until i leave

- mc paul barman lyrics

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