Peeves - Open Mike Eagle, Illingsworth

When you mix my vocals, put 'em above beats

I hate submarine sandwiches and sub-tweets

I hate when I post tour dates on the Instagram

Commenters asking when, read it if you gives a damn (sheesh)

I mean it’s right there in the post

You only got to read it (ah)

I’m deep breathing, dang

Don’t attempt to flattery

I hate when new electronics don’t come with batteries

C’mon man, why you trying to send me to the store?

How the fuck this mattress fitting in between the door frame?

And rappers, I’m calling your names

Pronouncing words wrong to rhyme like Novem-bor rain

See?

Sounds pretty awful

Don’t get in my car hiding anything unlawful

C’mon, at least say something first

Why you riding dirty, fool?

You almost thirty

I guess I should confess pet peeves

Such as having my chest squeezed

By pests with wet sleeves

I hate raking up dead leaves

Especially on windy days

But being out in the sun for too long

Feels like having your skin whipped and flayed

My guess is that it’s similar to being Prince

And having the power and strength of the Black Panther stripped away

Hate McDonalds menus, specifically the fish filet

I hate tipping waiters whose simple labors

Didn’t cater to my whims and favor

For misbehavior, yeah

I hate it when they killed Billy in Predator

My gears grind when customers ahead of me

Willfully continue loud gossipy phone convos at the register

The clerk wanna hurt you

It’s work, so learn virtue

I hate how granola bars

Explode apart like supernova stars

The manufacturers have no regard

For any of us

That’s how you get ants

Sugary crumbs