[Intro: Open Mike Eagle]
Check, yeah
1-2

[Verse 1: Open Mike Eagle]
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

[Verse 2: Illingsworth]
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