Aesop Rock
Hip hop musician, rapper and producer.
If I had a hammer, I'd build a city on stilts so my feet would stay dry when God's wine glass tilts. If I had a shovel, I'd dig a hole in the dirt and I'll be hiding when his drunken stupor lands upon earth
We the We the American working population hate the fact that eight hours a day is wasted on chasing the dream of someone that isn't us. And we may not hate our jobs, but we hate jobs in general that don't have to do with fighting our own causes. We the American working population hate the nine to five day-in day-out but we'd rather be supporting ourselves by being paid to perfect the pasttimes that we have harbored based solely on the fact that it makes us smile if it sounds dope.
Jiggy-jabberjaw vitamin idol and primal rages. When bible page verse tidal waves begun (Water one, I wrote the book that shook America to splinters in a winter wasteland Icicle-bound barren township. Call Baron Munchhausen's proud gimps to clinch this chemical war pig, delinquent sinkin' like a paper tugboat well beneath your holidays. Beached on a red tide infested shore corroding eastern seaboard beauty. I'm a jigsaw slab, but all the pig saw was dirt bag.
I'ma never give, I'm juiced off ejection, I'm stubborn as a thousand born agains avoid questions.
I pace the game for zero hour completion cretin, splash. Duke of early retirement picket dream. American nightmare hogging the screen. I’ll hold the door open so you can stumble in if you’d stop following me ‘round the jungle gym. Now it's an honor, and I spell it with the ‘h’ I stole from ‘heritage’. Merit crutched on the wretched refuse of my teaming resonance. I promise.
There's smoke in my Iris but I painted a sunny day on the inside of my eyelids.
Til priests laps are slapped with parental advisory warnings, I'll be auditioning gods in my office on Monday morning.
Just a little bruise in the back of the pews. Acting amused with a mask on them Vatican blues. For in the eyes of the organization I was raised in, Aes is just another cynic-brick in Hell's basement. Cubicle adjacent to the killers and rapists. For what? Drugs and fucking is part of growing up.
If you want to push then I'm ready to push, but if your pulling while I'm pushing then why'd you ask me to push.
...but damn, kum bai fucking ya dog.
I'd rather live it, cause dreamers always chase but never get it.
I am human. Hear me rise above material incarnal sin. They shot me in the face. Mars wins.
Look. I've never had a dream in my life 'cause a dream is what you wanna do but still haven't pursued. I knew what I wanted and did it 'til it was done, so I've been the dream that I wanted to be since day one.
See every now and then I love life but hate to admit it because it spreads the jinx of the sleeping cynic.
Inorganic pat on back. trim the panic flat on backer. Back to back like Mad Hatter magic rabid mastiff collaborative splatter bachelor fabric fatter with Cabbage Patch lit.
I told this cat the earth was flat, he walked 'til his beard grew long enough to strangle himself for being stupid.
Welcome to Bazooka Works. Halogen halo eyesore. The revolution will not be apologized for.
See, my sexy sabotage seeks defensive action to save the race, you land in hand on board to mention magma (Blaze the place).
The water ain't safe; the land's made of water. I hung a half-empty glass, my dignity's tryin to pawn 'er. I'm tryin' to see the future in a teacup and a saucer but, I'd rather be drinking coffee with my cigarette foster.
Fumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen, Pour myself a cup of ambition and, Yawn and stretch and my life is a mess and If I never make it home today, God bless.