Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bug Zapper, artist - Aesop Rock. Album song Cat Food, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 04.01.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rhymesayers Entertainment
Song language: English
Bug Zapper |
The first step is a doozy, it’s roulette with a mood ring |
The birth of an old slang, the death of a new speak |
A permanent post-game is littered with bridge trolls |
Skirting the copay, divvy the death toll |
Innumerable codenames, alerted and mobile |
Familiar rising, and furnacing cold piles |
Resilient style kings, impossibly tantrum |
Wandering wild things, obelisk phantoms |
On linoleum or lava, leaders of a leadfoot fauna |
His left source blunt force trauma |
Not pillar of the commune, a splinter off the pagan |
Who vote off the elusiveness of truth and exultation |
From the point of view of students labeled putrid little aphids |
By the beautiful and cryogenic stasis |
Sadists, meanwhile makers of a hideous whatnot |
Committed to a lowdown Sisyphus up-rock |
Are shaving at a truck stop, aging exponentially |
Homie, no myth flowers grow where he piss |
And I still row boats outta bottles without abandon |
To shrink into the sunset bumping Pachelbel’s Canon |
In D motherfucker, the author of the artistry |
May or may not be weeping to an automated pharmacy |
Hello. |
Hello? |
Shit |
Too geeked up to even keep it down |
Too peaced out to even be around |
Too beat up to even breathe it out |
(Too freaked out to even leave your house) x5 |
You wish you could dance more, I wish you would talk less |
My gentleman transformed, to bringers of offed heads |
Moments of land war, my Lazarus species |
Tattered and bruised up, from back in the cheap seats |
Hackers on crew cuts, foam at the mush mouth |
Gag at the news truck, notably unsound |
Dragging his clown shoes, food in his moustache |
Raggedy hounds tooth, zilch on a bus pass |
I’m good, house at the beach of expelled hubcaps |
Black lawn, backyard melting into Lovecraft |
Bad yarn spun by the hum of the bug zapper |
Of kings becoming runners, and runts becoming alphas |
And underdogs with posters of a front-side Tony Alva |
On the sticker laden walls above their uncle’s Bowie albums |
Graduate to flyers of an execrated sigil |
And live to see another sexy generation fizzle |
Out, keep rap homely |
Bear claw slippers, over-sized Billy Joel tee |
Fat-faced, potbelly, neckbeard, crow’s feet |
Rat nest, gross teeth, pock marks, go team |
I walk with Hawaii on a greenscreen behind me |
So even the awkward pauses feel inviting |
Standing at a landmark sleep drought keep out |
Can’t talk now too freaked out |