Hot Dog Carbonara is another display of Angle’s diversified portfolio of cadences, as he switches deliveries throughout this ever-changing gem. Send all home recipes for Hot Dog Carbonara directly to Angle at booking contact.
Produced by the Dust Collectors.
from
Cygnus Opus,
released June 15, 2018
Hot Dog Carbonara!
Verse 1:
Tell you a little bit about this microphone holder, got a little older.
Now I’m a better paper folder, knowing a third of our life is rolling over where the pillow’s colder.
If doubt pops, I dead it. Look in the mirror, you a bad mutha don’t forget it.
I favor the odds ‘cause I set ‘em. Find a penny from heaven you better bet it.
I pulverize the lemons, never let ‘em, see the pucker on the mug until I’m,
dead and gone. What you on? I’m on and on; of the soul, Potholes in my Lawn.
What would you do if I sang out of tune? Well, I do. Do you want to put the auto on?
Maybe make a hit the lotto song? Baby-making electronic song?
You must be smoking off the chronic bong, like this rhyme scheme is moronic long.
Just another sonic bomb from a close friend of your mom, two rights don’t make a wrong.
Just a hundred and eighty degrees. Angle in the catbird’s seat with the keys.
Since back as a lad, the coldest gab, make a scantily clad, harlequin freeze.
So, fat lady please, don’t make me take to a knee. Don’t make me wait to be free.
The media we see, immediately, create the debris. I negotiate chi.
Trust when head rust, I’m reasoning, long gone, sayonara!
Must collect dust for seasoning, Hot Dog Carbonara.
Chorus:
Chant, from underground.
Can’t, put it down.
Champion sound.
Get on up! Get on up!
Fix a plate and fill your cup!
Verse 2:
You’re in my ring, so like Gollum, I’m following you, talking ‘bout we got a prollem.
And I’m still standing tall when, you Invade Space like rows of aliens falling.
I sing ‘em like I call ‘em, call ‘em like I see ‘em (fart noise) onomotopean.
Not a human being. That guy, wouldn’t want to be him.
I guess I’m too involved with being me and y’all I don’t care at all who’s agreeing.
Sometimes you gotta grow a pea pod and drop your bag like you’re teaing.
Like a scrap, throwing punches ‘til you get cracked.
Short circuit, then you shake it off. Get in focus, then you’re throwing back.
Knuckle busting, start the protocol for the concussion.
Then you connect with one of your best, get you right back in the discussion.
That’s how you win, with a one-battle-at-a-time strategy.
Then you’re gone with the wind, why I’m straying from the cattle and I’m fine, if you’re mad at me.
Remind me not to upset the apple cart, wishing I didn’t tear the plan apart.
My brow’s dropped enough sweat. Respect the street magician by tomorrow.
Ride off in the sunset, malpositioned apparition, sayonara!
Compliments to the chef for the mix, Hot Dog Carbonara.
Chorus Repeat
Verse 3:
Started with “Get off me,” but the coffee, is warming my soul this morning,
Making me awfully softy. Downgrade scorning to idle warning.
No, I’m not conforming; don’t keep up with regulatory social norming.
Find it boring like promoting biz before performing
Hook:
Whoo! Bubble centered on another level.
Whoo! Star hunting, no I never settle.
Whoo! Sonning puppets like Geppetto when I make ‘em
Whoo! and wipe, forehead sweat from the work I do!
Verse 4:
I put a voice to my thoughts, no use to pissing in pots.
That’s a misuse of cookware. I got stew for the box.
Booming truth for the lots, don’t reach ‘em, but I don’t stop.
You in school where I pause, to teach ‘em, ‘cause money talks.
And I‘ve been called to the job, some say aesthetically pleasing.
Baggage packers, them heads stay prophetically cheasing.
If it’s possible to uneducated, then get Sirius on the radio.
That’s a bronco’s dead debate. I’ll end it with an imperious, stop!
Diatribe before the tribe died, eulogy and thanks on it.
Make sure the life is full before I pour a drank on it.
Put the white or black on it. We put that thumb tack on it.
I put the backhand, middle-finger smack on it.
Pink that ass-cheek, scold-like spank on it.
Think it’s gold? Put that Eastside stank on it.
Put that on my momma. You can put the bank on it.
Bet the farm, I put the kitchen sink, until I draw a blank on it.
Hook Repeat
