Ya I make magic
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Ya I identify as a cactus
Always strapped with that ratchet
With a bat shit lil rabbit
Bugging like a praying mantis
Making traffic on them fabrics
Paint my fingers
My handprints on her canvas
All over the walls inside her cabin
Oops, I mean her palace
As if she were from the Atlantis
As if we were a pair of matches
Weaved in a basket that we crafted
But all that did was feed the dragon
Ya I make magic
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Yeah, I identify as a magnet
As the casket of her madness
Like Aladdin in them fabrics
Even Doc Martin can't stand it
Beat the eggs right off her basket
Thrown out bearing and blown gasket
I'm all red flags and bad habits
Might as well brand it
Yeah, I don't think she's ever gonna call me handsome
Might as well embrace that I'm rancid
Instead I fell in love with all the damage
Like a right of passage, all the baggage
And the way it weighted in my face
Looked like two planets
Ya I make magic
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Ya I make magic
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Here's a little story that I'd like to tell
About me when I had an 8-ball for sale
I said I'd never been to prison but I've been to jail
And I don't know how to ball but I ball real well
Six foot tall, like money, I smell
Running with the packs in an Oldsmobile
Devil on my back, sitting fire to my heels
Having way too much fun up in the Hollywood Hills
Six foot tall, like honey, she smell
Running with the pack, won't serve her well
Running with the gas, got an opp on my tail
Things ain't never last, bout a bitch, oh well
Cuffed to the curb, I know girl gon' tell
I don't really care, sugar mama on bail
Things ain't never last, bout a bitch, oh well
Parallel Video (MV)
Bad Eyedea - Parallel Lyrics
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Ya I make magic
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Ya I identify as a cactus
Always strapped with that ratchet
With a bat shit lil rabbit
Bugging like a praying mantis
Making traffic on them fabrics
Paint my fingers
My handprints on her canvas
All over the walls inside her cabin
Oops, I mean her palace
As if she were from the Atlantis
As if we were a pair of matches
Weaved in a basket that we crafted
But all that did was feed the dragon
Ya I make magic
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Yeah, I identify as a magnet
As the casket of her madness
Like Aladdin in them fabrics
Even Doc Martin can't stand it
Beat the eggs right off her basket
Thrown out bearing and blown gasket
I'm all red flags and bad habits
Might as well brand it
Yeah, I don't think she's ever gonna call me handsome
Might as well embrace that I'm rancid
Instead I fell in love with all the damage
Like a right of passage, all the baggage
And the way it weighted in my face
Looked like two planets
Ya I make magic
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Ya I make magic
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Here's a little story that I'd like to tell
About me when I had an 8-ball for sale
I said I'd never been to prison but I've been to jail
And I don't know how to ball but I ball real well
Six foot tall, like money, I smell
Running with the packs in an Oldsmobile
Devil on my back, sitting fire to my heels
Having way too much fun up in the Hollywood Hills
Six foot tall, like honey, she smell
Running with the pack, won't serve her well
Running with the gas, got an opp on my tail
Things ain't never last, bout a bitch, oh well
Cuffed to the curb, I know girl gon' tell
I don't really care, sugar mama on bail
Things ain't never last, bout a bitch, oh well
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Ya I identify as a cactus
Always strapped with that ratchet
With a bat shit lil rabbit
Bugging like a praying mantis
Making traffic on them fabrics
Paint my fingers
My handprints on her canvas
All over the walls inside her cabin
Oops, I mean her palace
As if she were from the Atlantis
As if we were a pair of matches
Weaved in a basket that we crafted
But all that did was feed the dragon
Ya I make magic
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Yeah, I identify as a magnet
As the casket of her madness
Like Aladdin in them fabrics
Even Doc Martin can't stand it
Beat the eggs right off her basket
Thrown out bearing and blown gasket
I'm all red flags and bad habits
Might as well brand it
Yeah, I don't think she's ever gonna call me handsome
Might as well embrace that I'm rancid
Instead I fell in love with all the damage
Like a right of passage, all the baggage
And the way it weighted in my face
Looked like two planets
Ya I make magic
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Ya I make magic
On that mattress
Travel the Atlas
Put in the practice
Parallels like my active status
Paranoid if it's Black Sabbath
Here's a little story that I'd like to tell
About me when I had an 8-ball for sale
I said I'd never been to prison but I've been to jail
And I don't know how to ball but I ball real well
Six foot tall, like money, I smell
Running with the packs in an Oldsmobile
Devil on my back, sitting fire to my heels
Having way too much fun up in the Hollywood Hills
Six foot tall, like honey, she smell
Running with the pack, won't serve her well
Running with the gas, got an opp on my tail
Things ain't never last, bout a bitch, oh well
Cuffed to the curb, I know girl gon' tell
I don't really care, sugar mama on bail
Things ain't never last, bout a bitch, oh well
Writer: Eric Anderson
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid