Church Pants
Quelle: Spotify
[Hook: Rob Sonic & Aesop Rock]
When the rats rose up and broke their silence
And assembled on the shores of the closest island
With their folk beside them and a rogue defiance
Went 2 by 2 and awoke Poseidon
2 by 2 by 2 by 2...
[Verse 1: Rob Sonic]
Leopard print Speedo on the F.D.R. saying "follow that car"
Same maze different shit name sake blanket pocked
49 miners slick pick and pan, thanks a lot
Hook and reel pushing wheels building more storied land
Honest deal daily dose, aching bone, quarry hand
I praise the day porn began
Loser wins a cupie doll, not the father Maury dance
Saddle spin apple sins kings that cry
Ousted by the clergy we're not worthy of the crimson tide
Let it be just beware of prison pride
Proud Mary keep on burning down the house there’s kids inside
Give it time speaking soft send him in
Tell him what he’s here for and appear sure to his next of kin
Set your sails bed of nails elbow back
Trading in the British pound sitting down with Meadow's dad
Kettles black might explode sign the paper
Resuscitate me if the doctors are the kind that cater
Labor party line, primed with wine and wafer...
You’ll get buried in the desert like I’m Gator, hater!
[Verse 2: Aesop Rock]
Pink bunny slippers on the F.D.R. saying "follow that car"
Moth man morph devoid of a new cocoon
More aches in his joints than joints in his human suit
No cigar, scoop dirt smitty over hook-in-mouth
Foot work itchy for a hoof and snout, do or die intruder bound
Zoomed on the stupefying truancy of
Santa's little helpers watching millie pull her Brooklyn out
Part hex, part dark RX, part kill the headlights when approaching a harpy nest
Ever oscillating Arp noise, operate and charter stone hearts out of gargoyles
Ditto on the guard dogs, ruff!
This is not behavior distorted by the presence of other personage
More a naturally occurring perfect mess
Couriering letters from the burning bridge
Paranormal death-match, check back early-ish
Crack bread, marry a cursed hand
To it's weapon like Slurpee to church pants, I circle the worm can
I'm 21 spud guns burped over Birdland
Whole time swervin' the work van
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