| You want to know why? |
| Because I’m
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| Dead messengers buried in their Melvin shirts
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| Awoken as reanimated mummies from the sepulcher
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| Anonymous and secular and ribbons and exposed brain
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| Roll with grown men who still use code names
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| Fold crawl space on the SS coat tails
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| Might chase six legs through his oatmeal
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| Oh dear, no pets eat his own homework
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| Pet cruise cobble step shoes that are bone bugs
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| Holmes, sick to the fishbone comb
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| My yellow brick shtick ain’t tip toe prone
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| It’s a misthrown sticky bomb slipping off the fingers wrong
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| Any blips you’re witnessing are living in the Sigma laws
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| Blip, blip, dag, these ghosts need a doctor
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| Shelter, clean Dunlops on a walker
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| She sells sea shells, he draws revenge
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| Plots on a chalkboard, watch what you walk toward
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| Live free, die fat
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| Rock shot to a kill screen time lapse
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| Watch how the blitzkrieg climax
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| Spring clean hijack, bring me my axe
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| Girl: What are you doing up there?
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| Guy: Stealing, I’m a weekend burglar
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| Girl: I’m on my lunch break, you want to help me kill half an hour?
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| Guy: No.
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| I’m laying in a cut overstuffed from a bad meal
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| Staring at the sun, on my back like a fat seal
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| Debating with myself about whether not rap’s real
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| Cause broke motherfuckers are the only ones that have skill
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| Everybody got intentions that they can’t reveal
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| Major label acts got to act like they don’t have deals
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| Claiming grassroots, I’m like «hell no
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| Your buzz is as organic as Monsanto.»
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| I’m going at your beanstalk, ax in hand
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| Over a beat by Aes Rock, that’s my man
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| People sleeping still believing that we haven’t expanded
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| But that’s just a small part of the master plan, bitch
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| Printnificent, shining 'till your skin chafe
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| Write until the pen ache, reclining by a big lake
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| I’m only winning cause I went in an gettin' waked
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| Chillin' at the crib by the time you get your shit straight
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| You suppose robots would enjoy listening to music?
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| You figure that if robots are electronic creations they
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| Enjoy listening to electronic music
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| You think you can create a scientific symphony
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| We’d not only send to our metal friends but
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| Would also be fascinating to human ears
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| You already have, and it’s on the other side of the record
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| I can’t wait to hear it
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| MIDI with a drum change queue
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| Cherries in the mirror of his Mustang too
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| Took his thang from the South to the Rocklin Hooters
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| Bought her wings and a round, then he chopped and screwed her
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| Cops at the Getty so he thumbed his nose up
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| Pedal to the metal, leave them dunked in donuts
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| Stuck on «so what?» |
| from the aged Tequila
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| When he drove into the back of an eighteen-wheeler
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| Basic leader, camp is cardboard
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| The jet chooses raps to advance their shark soar
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| Marked for M*A*S*H* out my cordial stingers
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| Address you crossly, corporal clinger
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| Attention all freaks with newer footing
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| My radio is not played by Cuba Gooding
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| Now, who’s assuming that the man’s a block boy
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| Cause he keep his fam happy with lots of Bok Choy |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song BMX , by - Aesop Rock. Song from the album Skelethon, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп