I could make 'em all dance, or I could sleep
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I could walk with a limp and make your step feel incomplete
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people are made of match sticks, life is but a flame
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note at the craftwork door the last smirk of the the Damien mainframe
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my box cost siphon third rail juice from lost poets
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inhabit ocean bottoms with a bitter rotten scapegoat pardons (note to self)
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don't bargain at martyr parliament rallies
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where participants squeeze your last giggle then whittle sacrificial finalies
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I can tie my boot laces alone, save your knee deep offerings
|
sorta bring puke coughing bunk persona to light (I might)
|
build anti-malignant railroads, find you, and lay tracks adjacent
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just to scream "fuck off" as the engine pulls out the station
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what should we do with a thousand drunken sailors?
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"kill 'em all, locate their family address, release a mailer"
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(dear sir or madam, your son or daughter's embarrassed human kind
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consuming booze and gut fuel, till they cruised across the line)
|
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I spin gold, your raps are dirty lapsed
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towards the nursery class act impression of a bubble
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(yeah I could of been more subtle when polluting paradise gene puddle)
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man huddles make us look like cool peeps and I'm trying to school sheep
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towards the right idea {*c'ya* - 5X}
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this basic divine subsidiary bust center syllable logic, fold origami
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plantation shut this picket fence
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*TANGLED THROUGH your dream kitten, you'll probably never hear this song
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let alone sip the mission long enough to listen
|
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(I smoke cigarettes down to filter, smoke the filter down to space
|
now I'm gonna roll this question tight and smoke that shit up in your face
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now if you were to alter masks every time fame circus approaches
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do you really think your maker wouldn't notice? *THINK ABOUT IT)
|
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Okay, I've died a thousand, and I'll die a thousand more,
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I leave footprints in fours, two for bi-peds, two more to break the door
|
practically caress the utterings of crushed by drudgery brothers and sisters
|
mothering stickler cabin and madden shit
|
I'll fix the wing for a penny and a *PARABLE, yeah but this friendship
|
sunk with a barrel full of tarot's pull
|
I seen guys harbor bad shiners
|
then wonder why the culprits sitting at the their rainbows ending
|
rocks garbage bag liners
|
with out the apple seed it's useless (I sat for greed)
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patched for boredom crafts a castle out of toothpicks (I sat to breath)
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I breath to hard nearly metamorph castle loose pins
|
now I stand to breath as not to disturb the*PLUMMAGE
|
and I know that's not a story, it no longer turns my stomach
|
hollering wolves in the form of one frustrated culprit
|
but a love tap full of washed up stardom melted trying to milk it
|
win a ticket to right white lines highway sideways melt it smelt it
|
one love to the rungs in my ladder, one love to the gathering of
|
laughter bats that hung from my rafters
|
see the jackal met the badger, they were both such fucking bad asses
|
that clashing wouldn't make sense (hence my tape deck)
|
now I ain't gonna name name's, and I ain't gonna drag others in
|
but I ain't about to say that I'm the only cat you got bubbling
|
your lucky, somehow you managed to befriend some good people
|
who will sit and soak the evils you secrete, but why? I'm not really sure
|
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(knock the fuck off, kicking his lip across the floor
|
'til the archival vinyl venom soak the lure
|
anti-clarity mechanism spit flattery burners
|
fusing a million majesty murders then stole the crown)
|
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oh wait that's right, you discovered me right?
|
offered up the peace pipe, and oh
|
It's all cotton candy when Aesop Rock the B line
|
he's actin foolish left in the middle of laying bricks
|
(oh we weren't building nothing but a great wall around these stones and sticks)
|
oh and for the record I've been rhyming since me and Andre thought we could freestyle
|
built foundation out of passion and brother dusty tasking
|
studied dope rappers, vocab expansion, poems and syllable placement
|
your just mad cuz somewhere in there you came and went (I ain't the type to dwell)
|
dismissed it as casually non compatible and bounced
|
obtained status where I could straight objectively critique your after projects like
|
(damn that sounds fresh) or (damn that shit is garbage, what happened?
|
I'm not even laughing)
|
yeah, but the barriers were broken (you choked)
|
you made comments to the wrong ?? who out of respect and honor leaked your program
|
now like were both trying to sit and breath another dawn so my advice
|
to you is when I say just "move on" {*move on* - 5X}
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-----------------
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The Tugboat Complex, Pt. 3
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| Aesop Rock |
