Aesop Rock - Boombox lyrics
Ian Matthias Bavitz [Bazooka Tooth]
[Aesop Rock - Boombox lyrics]
Raw, I'mma give it to ya, no trivia
Raw like that Aesop rock
Iron-fisted bliss militia
A bent funny bone, drone community
Spit a thousand and one ripples
To cripple the continuity
Tapwater builds character right
I irrigate it straight to mainline
You want to do the same? Fine
These pretty profit grommet teams
Solidify to clot
The slippery city sump piston pump drain
Behold "Old King Credible" kind soul with
A Russian-roulette bad mood spin-off
Where every day
A thousand strangers pray for empty chambers
One sixth buckle
Five sixths sweat bullets trying
To keep it subtle
But I'll get you (I'mma get at you)
My novelty, wobbly rope bridge broke inches
Prior to dry land
But duck skull stepping-stones suit
The mix down well
Well, when the rumor spreads
That y'all stupid
I'll be the cat with guilty look
On face and shirt that reads
"I didn't do it"
God, is it on? Is it beyond basic?
Does it ice-grill you? Or
Is every song faceless?
Does it have a title? If it
Didn't would you name it?
Does it babble about nothing
Like a drunk atheist?
We could run that Orwell's '84 warp
For the Room 101 detour
Until each client fidgets with his or
Her own worst fear specifics
Swerve around the cobra kisses
See if the venom overloads this vision
I'mma suck the poison out and spit it
Stole my sneakers but your feet
Just never fit in
Serves you right for trying to walk
A mile outside your limit's
I'mma tiptoe across this yo yo string
Until you walk the dog out from
Under my feet and skip town, sit down
It goes boom boom boom boombox c'mon
I originate with the drums
Earth to AR vertical
Burden has increased at an alarming rate
Bliss is down a point, murder up, glee down
And still falling
Still crawling out of bed at 2 on
Saturdays came this blind
Soldier-burning confessional ease back
Let a heart thump echo normalcy for 10
Let the back burner boiling point descend
I race the derby in the first heat
(strike personal)
Strike personal space with a most
Utterly putrid version of grace
Spit the gimmick, sit and fidget wild
In five you'll be jumping through hoops
Like Coney Island freak show midgets
Want to be a fighter pilot?
Driving that childish early Wright Brothers
Experiment prototypic model fossil
Sitting sweating bullets on a console
Busting accidental dirt bike
Donuts outside the
Most ridiculous poison tongue brain silo
Dead before the chubby debutante
Conquered the high note
Schooled by the cruel intention
Invention's pensive sideshow
See contrary to popular certainty
I alone advance without an earthly poem
And dance on a handful of zoning fans
Combing every chance to own the land
I roam with dome in hand
And truly be it's only camper
Happy with the scrap heap
See I convince myself it's on
Therefore it is
And the melody settles beneath the fact that
I'm just spitting for these kids
I tried to get 'em all open
And once I quit and said I didn't care
That's when they all threw their
Hands in the air
It goes boom boom boom boombox c'mon
Raw like that Aesop rock
Iron-fisted bliss militia
A bent funny bone, drone community
Spit a thousand and one ripples
To cripple the continuity
Tapwater builds character right
I irrigate it straight to mainline
You want to do the same? Fine
These pretty profit grommet teams
Solidify to clot
The slippery city sump piston pump drain
Behold "Old King Credible" kind soul with
A Russian-roulette bad mood spin-off
Where every day
A thousand strangers pray for empty chambers
One sixth buckle
Five sixths sweat bullets trying
To keep it subtle
But I'll get you (I'mma get at you)
My novelty, wobbly rope bridge broke inches
Prior to dry land
But duck skull stepping-stones suit
The mix down well
Well, when the rumor spreads
That y'all stupid
I'll be the cat with guilty look
On face and shirt that reads
"I didn't do it"
God, is it on? Is it beyond basic?
Does it ice-grill you? Or
Is every song faceless?
Does it have a title? If it
Didn't would you name it?
Does it babble about nothing
Like a drunk atheist?
We could run that Orwell's '84 warp
For the Room 101 detour
Until each client fidgets with his or
Her own worst fear specifics
Swerve around the cobra kisses
See if the venom overloads this vision
I'mma suck the poison out and spit it
Stole my sneakers but your feet
Just never fit in
Serves you right for trying to walk
A mile outside your limit's
I'mma tiptoe across this yo yo string
Until you walk the dog out from
Under my feet and skip town, sit down
It goes boom boom boom boombox c'mon
I originate with the drums
Earth to AR vertical
Burden has increased at an alarming rate
Bliss is down a point, murder up, glee down
And still falling
Still crawling out of bed at 2 on
Saturdays came this blind
Soldier-burning confessional ease back
Let a heart thump echo normalcy for 10
Let the back burner boiling point descend
I race the derby in the first heat
(strike personal)
Strike personal space with a most
Utterly putrid version of grace
Spit the gimmick, sit and fidget wild
In five you'll be jumping through hoops
Like Coney Island freak show midgets
Want to be a fighter pilot?
Driving that childish early Wright Brothers
Experiment prototypic model fossil
Sitting sweating bullets on a console
Busting accidental dirt bike
Donuts outside the
Most ridiculous poison tongue brain silo
Dead before the chubby debutante
Conquered the high note
Schooled by the cruel intention
Invention's pensive sideshow
See contrary to popular certainty
I alone advance without an earthly poem
And dance on a handful of zoning fans
Combing every chance to own the land
I roam with dome in hand
And truly be it's only camper
Happy with the scrap heap
See I convince myself it's on
Therefore it is
And the melody settles beneath the fact that
I'm just spitting for these kids
I tried to get 'em all open
And once I quit and said I didn't care
That's when they all threw their
Hands in the air
It goes boom boom boom boombox c'mon