Lyrics Open Mike Eagle – No Selling (Uncle Butch Pretends It Don’t Hurt)

Ahh
Ow
Uh
Yeah

I got a keep a facade
I got a play it cool
Like when you with a girl and she go away to school
Gonna get a leather shirt, my stomach never hurts
Strong face, strong jaw, shown through my competitors
I tear my ACL, and wouldn’t even limp
I keep my head up high, so I can read the blimps
Don’t even scream if something hot burns my finger tips
I just wait a couple seconds then I reattempt
Had a weird childhood, my shit was wild hood
But crying ain’t my style cause I can smile good
I don’t take shit personal, I don’t get jealous
You can leave my name off, you can misspell it
I ain’t with yelling
I ain’t even mad
I ain’t screaming, catching feelings, and breathing bad, yeah
My favorite phrase is «so what?»
I’m stone-cut, I’m bad to the bone, no need to blow up
Calm before the storm or something
I ain’t cried since ’94 or something

My legs tired cause I been running things
That shit is exhausting, I’m in a ton of pain
But I’m no selling, I’m no selling, I’m no selling, I’m no selling
Tryna write fire, my pen full of flame
That shit burned my hand, I’m in a ton of pain

I won’t sweat it, it happened to brothers every year
I hit my thumb with a hammer and wouldn’t shed a tear, yeah
Still waters, I’m running real deep
Airplane hit turbulence, shit, I’m still ‘sleep
I hit my knee on the bed corner and run a sprint
I cried once, but haven’t for every summer since
For those of you that’s doubting, I take it that far
I had an asthma attack during the last bar

My legs tired cause I been running things
That shit is exhausting, I’m in a ton of pain
But I’m no selling, I’m no selling, I’m no selling, I’m no selling
Tryna write fire, my pen full of flame
That shit burned my hand, I’m in a ton of pain
But I’m no selling, I’m no selling, I’m no selling, I’m no selling

You ain’t coming then send a note
That shit get to me, I pretend it don’t
I gotta keep a facade
I gotta play it cool
Like when you with a girl and she away in school
Gonna get a leather shirt, my stomach never hurts
Strong face, strong jaw, shown through my competitors
It ain’t me in this spot, wishing it could’ve been
The homie got that shit, well fucking good for him

That part
Right there