Aesop Rock - 100 Feet Tall lyrics
Ian Matthias Bavitz [Bazooka Tooth]
[Aesop Rock - 100 Feet Tall lyrics]
One time I met Mr t in New York in the 80s
I was 7
8-ish, waiting for a table at Carnegie
With my family who did not always
Agree on what was wavy
But would shut up once a week because
We loved our fucking A Team
Pops seen him sitting there
Beard and Mandinka hair
Whispered so that we could hear, "Guys
Mr T is here"
Mr t is fucking real? I mean I know he's real
It's just we only seen him on TV
He's like a superhero to us
We were trying to catch a glimpse
My mama said "Don't make a scene
He probably having lunch with friends
I think they 'bout to pay and leave"
I'd never seen a famous
Person let alone Baracus
He 'bout to walk right by us
That's more than I could process
I felt a mighty presence
Entering my elbow room
Looked up and seen the rings
Each it's own yellow moon
I seen enough gold to break
The average neck in two
Feather hanging from the ear
Gear that say don't mess with you
No fools, no suckers be good to your mother
No dummies, no punks i pity every last one
One, one, one
Mr t's a hundred feet tall
Arms like trucks
Probably punch through a wall
My father said his name and
Sorta nodded to acknowledge him
Which would in turn confirm that this
Was not some type of hologram
Big, warm smile earring to earring
From a television tuffy to
Endearing it's eerie
Started rubbing his belly
Then a quip for the pups
"It take a place like this to fill Mr t up"
Get it? For those of you
Who don't know the establishment
They're famous in Manhattan for
Serving gigantic sandwiches
We shared a laugh about the portions
A humanizing peak behind
The on-screen performances he kept it brief
Said his piece and with that
Disappeared in a cloud
Mystique obscenely in tact
He played it perfect to a nervous
Kid he met at his peak
We spent the meal like "Holy Moses!
We just met Mr T!"
No fools, no suckers be good to your mother
No dummies, no punks i pity every last one
One, one, one
Close to 40 years have passed
My hair is gray my belly's fat
Still when I hear his voice I'm 7
8-ish back on 7th ave
Now with a perspective that I never had
Respect for who he's been and is
And questions I won't get to ask
About this one Chicago boy
The youngest of a dozen
Who was drawn to throwing suckers out
The club for bringing drugs in
Then scouted by Stallone who
Sends the Rocky part he bodies it
On Letterman he says he
Primarily still a bodyguard
Huh, born protector, icon or community
Plus network television like a rocket
To the moon of cheese
Pro Wrestling, cartoon, comic books, records
Break to beat cancer
Then he back to spread the message
Look, never talk to strangers
Stay in school
Don't hang out where the yay is
Love yourself, and fuck designer labels
Thank him for the guidance
Thank him for the cereal
Seriously it was righteous
No fools, no suckers be good to your mother
No dummies, no punks i pity every last one
One, one, one
I was 7
8-ish, waiting for a table at Carnegie
With my family who did not always
Agree on what was wavy
But would shut up once a week because
We loved our fucking A Team
Pops seen him sitting there
Beard and Mandinka hair
Whispered so that we could hear, "Guys
Mr T is here"
Mr t is fucking real? I mean I know he's real
It's just we only seen him on TV
He's like a superhero to us
We were trying to catch a glimpse
My mama said "Don't make a scene
He probably having lunch with friends
I think they 'bout to pay and leave"
I'd never seen a famous
Person let alone Baracus
He 'bout to walk right by us
That's more than I could process
I felt a mighty presence
Entering my elbow room
Looked up and seen the rings
Each it's own yellow moon
I seen enough gold to break
The average neck in two
Feather hanging from the ear
Gear that say don't mess with you
No fools, no suckers be good to your mother
No dummies, no punks i pity every last one
One, one, one
Mr t's a hundred feet tall
Arms like trucks
Probably punch through a wall
My father said his name and
Sorta nodded to acknowledge him
Which would in turn confirm that this
Was not some type of hologram
Big, warm smile earring to earring
From a television tuffy to
Endearing it's eerie
Started rubbing his belly
Then a quip for the pups
"It take a place like this to fill Mr t up"
Get it? For those of you
Who don't know the establishment
They're famous in Manhattan for
Serving gigantic sandwiches
We shared a laugh about the portions
A humanizing peak behind
The on-screen performances he kept it brief
Said his piece and with that
Disappeared in a cloud
Mystique obscenely in tact
He played it perfect to a nervous
Kid he met at his peak
We spent the meal like "Holy Moses!
We just met Mr T!"
No fools, no suckers be good to your mother
No dummies, no punks i pity every last one
One, one, one
Close to 40 years have passed
My hair is gray my belly's fat
Still when I hear his voice I'm 7
8-ish back on 7th ave
Now with a perspective that I never had
Respect for who he's been and is
And questions I won't get to ask
About this one Chicago boy
The youngest of a dozen
Who was drawn to throwing suckers out
The club for bringing drugs in
Then scouted by Stallone who
Sends the Rocky part he bodies it
On Letterman he says he
Primarily still a bodyguard
Huh, born protector, icon or community
Plus network television like a rocket
To the moon of cheese
Pro Wrestling, cartoon, comic books, records
Break to beat cancer
Then he back to spread the message
Look, never talk to strangers
Stay in school
Don't hang out where the yay is
Love yourself, and fuck designer labels
Thank him for the guidance
Thank him for the cereal
Seriously it was righteous
No fools, no suckers be good to your mother
No dummies, no punks i pity every last one
One, one, one