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INFO - BOOMBOX

Boombox

de Aesop Rock / pe Labor Days / an 2001

VERSURI - BOOMBOX

Raw, I'm going to give it to you



With no trivia



Raw like that Aesop rock iron-fisted list militia



While bent funny bone grown community



Spit a thousand and 1 ripples to cripple the continuity



Tap water builds character



Right I irrigate it straight to mainline



You want to do the same? Fine



These pretty profit grommet teams solidify the clot to slippery city salt piston pump drain



But hold those incredible console with the Russian roulette baboon spin-off



Where everyday 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'm going to get you)



Wobbly rope bridge



Broke inches tired of 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!



Is it on, is it beyond basic



Does it ice grill you or is every song faceless?



Does it have a title? If didn't would you name it?



Does it babble about nothing like a drunken atheist?



We could run that Orwells '84 war



For the room 1 on 1 z-tour



Till he try and fidgets with his or her own work spear specifics



Swerve around the cobra kisses



See if the venom overloads this vision



I'm going to suck the poison out and spit it



Stole my sneakers but your features never fit in



Servers you right for trying to walk a mile outside your limits



I'm going to tiptoe across this yo-yo string



Until you walk the dog out from under my feet and skip town, sit down







(Chorus)



It goes boom boom boom



Boombox







Earth to a-r 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 the most utterly putrid version of grace



Spit the gimmick, sit and fidget



While we try and jump through hoops



Like Coney Island freak show midgets



Want to be a fighter pilot



Driving that childish early Wright brothers experiment



Prototypic model fossil



Sit and sweat bullets on a console



Busting accidental dirt bike donuts



Outside the most ridiculous poison tongue brain silo



Dead before the chubby debutaunt conquered the high note



Schooled by the cruel intention inventions pensive sideshow



See contrary to popular certainty



I alone advance without an earthly poem



And dance on a handful of zoning fans



Holding every chance to own the land I roam



With dome in hands



Truly be its only camper happy with the scrap heap



See I convinced 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 them all open



And once I quit and said I didn't care



I swear they all threw their hands up in the air







(Chorus)



It goes boom boom boom



Boombox

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