| At night I wear a wolf’s head on my regular head
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| Consider an irregular character sketch
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| Food hoarder, communes with the flora
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| Computes in cahoots with beauty and brute force
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| I’ve got a brand new normal at a thirty in New York, plus
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| Years at the fire pulling portions out of corn husks
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| Never mind time on the short bus
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| Terrifying errant knights thwarting any motherfucking fork tongued-sport
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| Agita flashing the hind molars, though his body less a weapon more a bag of
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| lipomas
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| Over medium, treat skin-tags like scratch-offs
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| Rap like black-ops, rappers like lap dogs
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| He got the rad moves, catty alpha rat-proof (wait)
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| Twenty-sided die at the crap-shoot (wait)
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| Looking for a black hole to casually collapse through
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| Try aisle nine by the cat food
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| There it is
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| Ooh wee, do we roast in a bilge, when the skinny from afar is «Thar be gold in
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| them hills»
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| Time better let a couple truths decay, or somebody going to rue the day
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| Check, check, check
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| Catch 'em on the lam
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| (I ain’t joking)
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| No maps, no muster point
|
| (Nah, I ain’t joking)
|
| I put a pebble on a tomb
|
| (I ain’t joking)
|
| Making bath tub meth
|
| I’m joking
|
| Here we go
|
| The whip got a tongue and teeth
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| Too tough, two blood-shot eyes with a Tungsten bleep
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| When any putrefying arrow wants your lungs in reach
|
| I field a vessel going zero to the fuck y’all think
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| And when your function fails I’m on an undisclosed island
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| Stroking exotic animals, open up rocket science
|
| Leaning a jewellers loupe over a stolen sock 'o diamonds
|
| Palm-made products a portrait of modern triumph, try us
|
| Back at the battering ram post-haste
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| Cro-mags, wait till this Saturday plans grow legs
|
| All you hear is intermittent code names
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| Ricochet around the geometry of a closed space
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| Unfrozen part of his new J. O
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| Face of divine evil, heart of Camu Tao
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| Some people find the daylight to be oddly alluring
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| I was in the dark, dodging and burning
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| Maybe cause I look like an ugly doll
|
| (I ain’t joking)
|
| Pack a wallop in the wheelhouse
|
| (Nah, I ain’t joking)
|
| Leave brass tax everywhere
|
| (I ain’t joking)
|
| I own many many homes
|
| I’m joking
|
| Here we go
|
| All hock-tooie no costume
|
| Black hoodie you can set your watch to
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| Tall drink, daps like an air raid
|
| Radically detach with purveyors of the hair-brain
|
| Down with the ship go a dozen fried wild links
|
| Upperway, upper-case tri-state style kings
|
| Get pie-faced, sent home tied to the sinewaves
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| Lights off, spine on sideways
|
| Riding down the block, scooping Bobby in a boogie-down
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| Tony told me tell 'em «Hello, 7:30 noodle-town»
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| Cool 'em down, global domination over salt bake
|
| Situation comedy in broke dude cosplay
|
| You don’t want a meeting on an off-day trading horror stories from the hollows
|
| The summary is as follows:
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| «These hate those and this thinks, that’s absurd»
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| Yip yap, y’all cats and birds
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| Meow meow meow meow meow
|
| (I ain’t joking)
|
| Talking rubes on the radio
|
| (Nah, I ain’t joking)
|
| Uh, suckers never play me
|
| (I ain’t joking)
|
| I found Jimmy Hoffa’s body
|
| I’m joking
|
| Here we go |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cat Food , by - Aesop Rock. Song from the album Cat Food, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп