Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Numb (To The Guns), artist - Aesop Rock.
Date of issue: 03.11.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Numb (To The Guns) |
What’d I miss? |
900 cc’s of the raw in one fist |
The bum’s dumb blitz |
Order in the court where the mortars jump bricks |
Everybody, lung on the table, this point counterpoint |
Aesop has the murkiest, yet he numb out the prowler oint (uh) |
And after bubblegum, he sink into the sofa |
Clicker to pilot his broadcasted choice of cobra (hissssss) |
The venom remains the same game of stale toxins |
Camo’d with the now ornamental satellite options |
Whatever’s good I got this grave half dug (true) |
But Yani covering taps to make the pain worse than it was (nooo) |
Playin marbles (playin marbles) |
Hit by a bus (hit by a bus) |
Death is sweet (death is sweet) |
Hell sucks, sucker |
Damien probably wishin I’d donate a fuck |
But this shit’s chiller than any conversation I’ve had in months |
The iron fang drew 'em all loopy (real loopy) |
So when he extended the hand the planet’s Kujo’s went Snoopy |
In perfect synocaption, burnt to crispy critters |
Like synchronized swimmers in boric rivers |
Mmmm, poor soaked critters |
Lick chop dig-in, who dares lick a shot at pigeons? |
Why I oughta (Vast get em!) |
He surfs city circuits for the power and the glory |
To the cowards in the quarry you will always blink before me |
Its Doc Roc full-effect, campfire stories |
Like I «Threw Your Momma From the Train» to try to front on «Porkies» |
He finds the garbage more inspiring than the good stuff (right) |
His ink sleeps while the military look tough |
Look, im sorry, crooked priority list |
But Mr. USA-up-all-night's blackened heart already skips |
I’m 'bout to crash this bitch to hibernate |
Tell Wolf Blitzer holler at his boy when he hosts «Blind Date» |
It goes spit on CNN and force the war back through the cable box |
Where M1's are like stage props aimed at latest names dropped |
So now he ignorant, right? |
(right) |
No, he just accepts the inevitable apocalyptic syllabus |
Sing along, Zooka dies of chemical poison, and watch 'em |
Bring it on |
Dag nabbit, that cat’s faster |
I dead opinions and swap it out for the urges |
Of a serpent tryin to stuff it in the jam before the curtains |
He’s numb to the guns, thanks to the tank cams |
Glued to the box like the opposites will shake hands |
Enough hell for the world’s hand baskets |
Enough cells for the world’s hand captured |
Numb to the guns, now he touch buttons that’ll re-route imagery |
Yes dawg, he recognize the history |
Yes dawg, he recognize the misery |
But switch for element of surprise and demise |
From m-16's or disco and hula-hoops |
Murder the fads before the fads murder you and yours |
Me and mine find T&A on TNT |
Pleasin' to the iris more than TNT on DNA |
Morbid but important, I know, stop |
Mork porked Mindy in this episode, watch |
POW be buzzin by the rumbling cannons and less amateurs, bystander analyst |
Went through the «Holy fuckin' shit I’m gonna die» phase |
Now it’s «Well, I’m gonna die, let’s get this barn’s sides raised» |
So when they ask what’s your opinion on the war? |
I tell 'em «War sucks donkey dick. |
What’s the Knicks' score?» |
Maybe it’s his allergies, no horns and pitchforks (umm, umm) |
Dusk muskrat (uhmm) eleven tusk jab (uhmm) |
Elegant bloodbath, leggin it, egg 'em on |
Television preg-a-nant and medicine is born |
Get a mean doubt, community duel glazed over blank white sockets |
Lookin for a heavy seven richter to shiver the crocs right up out they options |
Novacaine, bloodwork, spoon though the Lochness |
Hostage, no shame, suck the fear out his muck |
So when the nozzles hit his nostrils |
He don’t give a fuck |
After all, it’s just like on TV around the clock |
The thorns are real and anger management is not |
He’s numb to the guns, thanks to the tank cams |
Glued to the box like the opposites will shake hands |
Enough hell for the world’s hand baskets |
Enough cells for the world’s hand captured |
Numb to the guns, now he touch buttons that’ll re-route imagery |
Yes dawg, he recognize the history |
Yes dawg, he recognize the misery |
But switch for element of surprise and demise |