Aesop Rock, MF DOOM, Atmosphere - Barcade lyrics

Uh duck, duck, I'm too next
Punks jump to get suplexed
My two cents is y'all fucked up
So come buddy up with these moose heads
I get blood and guts on my work clothes
So no turncoats and no funny stuff
I go turbo, ya do run run
Or get chaperoned back to bumblefuck
Rabbit holes on rabbit holes
With no long goodbyes, i just vamonos
I might reappear as some vagabond who yell
Dirty words into a traffic cone
Ain't shit but some sick joke
I don't mix well with this milquetoast
Day ones get wished well
But I give hell to these bridge trolls
It go late night, I'm no
Saint, I'm so gone, don't change
I ain't old school, I ain't new school
I'm more no school like snow days
Stowaways start popping out
Posse up on y'all stomping grounds
Mainstays turn nomad
It's still no match for these foxhounds
Smokestack, I'm dead inside, four wheels
One hell ride two hands with ten middle
Fingers, one shit grin, two pecked eyes
All pressurized
Ante up, my tantrum is on full tilt
Drum roll, come talk tough
I'm like cough cough, it's all bullshit

Shitty fingers in your weed jar
This whole world is like VR
Free shows at the rebar all hokey and yeehaw
Keep plucking your guitar
See par dipped off the price is right
Free car, we are bob Barker, much darker
Black parka, fat marker mic sparker
Metal face, more bodies than a night stalker
Ramirez switching all the he says, she says
Prefer to follow her
Unless she itching between these legs
Meticulous, hero shine, zero swine
Green eggs
Pack got more whiny rappers that's
More annoying than scene kids
Villain crush green dust into fine powder
Vanilla Dutch, pop clutch, feel rush
Feel up on the real nuts
No pause, rappers all broads, no bras
Violating all the smoke laws
White lies, folklores, bleed out, no gauze
Zombies with their headsets
Nah, he's not dead yet, bet
Been centuries fighting armies and
These death threats

Take a breath before we sink
Into the depth of darkness
The rich people are tryin' to eat you
Better protect your armpit's
Mommy, pick up your telephone
And accept the charges
I'll see you next thirsty Thursday
When I collect your garbage they unfamiliar
But they still present respect regardless
Never starvin' for attention
Never begged for pardons
I checked your references
They all said that you're extra harmless
I'll straight up fuckin' son you
Then I'll catch some bargains
I might be your plug
It depends on where your heart is
You might be my plug
It depends on where your farm is
I'll take a smart dog
With sauerkraut and Parmesan
And you can find me tryin' to make
Party until the stars are gone
First-time caller
Tryin' to holler at Martians
I might be servin' cauliflower
At the farmers market
Rest in peace to all the
Energy outside of the margin
And leave a candle in the window
That's for Michael Larsen