Dishes

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 killer 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 shit, let's talk about yours