Coffee / Pigs Lyrics & Tabs by Aesop Rock
Coffee / Pigs
guitar chords lyrics
We don't need no walkie-talkies
Nope, no walkie-talkies
We don't need your coughing when offing the morning coffee, no
We don't need no walkie-talkies
Nope, no walkie-talkies
We just want our hermitry to stay and our coffee to go
(Aesop Rock)
And the last shall be.
First to immerse in the pass-out heat
Face in the mud where the moxie melt
Till he woke up drowning in Tchotchke hell
More in a cave with a torch on the wall
Than a window arrangement of porcelain dolls
On a brand new day, saw what he saw:
Property owners who crawl to the mall
Than a window arrangement of porcelain dolls
On a brand new day, saw what he saw:
Property owners who crawl to the mall
With a bad toupee and a face like he authored a law;
Pace like he mourning a loss
Right hand on a can of worms
Left full of gold he will trade for turf
I mean, that's okay
You got to answer to you at the end of the volatile day
But a model of mercy and might? No way!
Marionette who will clap and obey!
Dude, look... all that noise?
Call that flight of the water boys
Meet and greet and they all slap five
Cheek to cheek when they colonize
And a grown ass man shall abide as he wish
Walk that path with a dime and a stick
Walk that path with a diamond and wine
Walk that path to the firing line
Just walk... (walk...)
Pay no mind to the new recruit with the Play-Doh spine
Let's be friends from opposite ends
Wave to the kid, don't hop on the fence
Play to the radius far and away
Orbit wide, don't park in his space
One little martyr who talk in his face
Make one little Weathermen sharpen the blades
We don't need no walkie-talkies
Nope, no walkie-talkies
We don't need your coughing when offing the morning coffee, no
We don't need no walkie-talkies
Nope, no walkie-talkies
We just want our hermitry to stay and our coffee to go
(Aesop Rock)
And the last shall be.
First to the curb with the mad cow meat
Face in the bars of a regular cell
When he woke up high in collectible hell
Boom town kid who was taught by the binge
That a man who expire with the most shit win
That's warpy American nonsense penned by the rich
Not a routine friend in a pinch
Still not used to the stench
How it throws off, otherwise, lucid events
In the case the afraid observe
I got a Pro-Keds box full of layman's terms
It goes, "Hey! Peace! Pray for the plagued!
Major relief and capacious rains."
But just 'cause I don't want to war with you
It don't mean go warm up the barbecue
I'm like, "Pardon you!"
Sawed off limit
My high noon is a quick little minute
I don't wanna spend it sitting with a critic
Who simply isn't going to ever really get it
This HQ is alive and alone
No driveway no sign of a home
No dial tone, no line for the phone
No "World's Tiniest Violin Song."
And I might just lie to them all
Lie in the morgue with a deep breath hiding and bored;
Fighting a smile, highly annoyed
When the timing is right I will rise and record
Call for the monster beats
And Blockhead got animal drums, like he's Doctor Teeth
It goes red light, green light, one, two, three
One large coffee, fuck you, peace
T-A-K-E-N-O-P-R-I-S-O-N-E-R-S
T-A-K-E-N-O-P-R-I-S-O-N-E-R-S
T-A-K-E-N-O-P-R-I-S-O-N-E-R-S
T-A-K-E-N-O-P-R-I-S-O-N-E-R-S
T-A-K-E-N-O-P-R-I-S-O-N-E-R-S
(John Danielle)
I crawled down to the basement when the weather got cold
Like a lost lamb returning to the fold
And when the outside world recedes from view
It's just a year's supply of make-up and memories of you
Nineteen sixty-seven, colt forty-five
Holding back the vampires, keeping me alive
There's an envelope with some cash in it out by the front door
This is what they make you take the medication for
Sharks in the dunk tank, vipers in the garden
Locusts stole the groceries out the local Farmer's Market
All God's critters hold positions
Some are violent, some are victims
Each alive is an equal and vital piston I support
So when the piranhas honor New York
My daddy long legs dangled and mangled for sport
And while I bring in every dink in the kingdom with open wings
It all boils down to them shit-soaked pigs
The pigs, the pigs, the dregs of what y'all aim for
The gluttonous muddy stomachs under the pudgy cakehole
Two-track braniac using the food and payroll
To chew up and consume every cookie, crumb, and peso
And place a cloven hoof on the lucrative when convenient
As the bourbon-odor smokers' coughs smolder off the Cohiba
If Noah had the benefit of hindsight on his ship
He could've snatched two unicorns and left behind the motherfucking...
Pigs!
God damn... pigs!
Potbelly... pigs!
Punch-drunk... pigs!
Take money, money... pigs!
Loudmouth... pigs!
Wide load... pigs!
Let's make a deal...
When all the wolves in woolly wigs
Have huffed, and puffed, and blew the bricks
The skulls of Brooklyn's cruelest pigs
Will rain on Fulton's newest kicks
As mulish swine of all surrounding counties sniff the gruesomeness
We pass around the pineapples and pull the pins in unison
I will gladly feed you to the breed who wants you sacrificed
No pagan or sacrilege, just bacon for scavengers
I will gladly seat you with the chickens, not the passengers
Hopefully the crack in his armor spreads to his avarice
Never that, Wilburs multiply quicker than triples
And hunt their truffles in fistfuls, but it was all bells and whistles
Bougie this and Bougie that...
War pig or pussy cat...
Glitzy to the pork ribs, had to gold-leaf the booby traps
Powder-pink, double-breasted, mess of mud and money
Waddle off the fire to make his stubborn tummy wroggle
And while I don't really know the working details of your tribes
I know that that's one ugly fucking tie
Asshole... pigs!
God damn... pigs!
Potbelly... pigs!
Punch-drunk... pigs!
Take money, money... pigs!
Loudmouth... pigs!
Wide load... pigs!
Let's make a deal...
Apple in his mouth, Maraschino eyes
Party like the butcher boy's cleaver is alive
I mosey into sixteen hours of smoke in the misty winter
To see the county fair's blue ribbon winner as dinner
Then dance until the sun has kissed your blisters in the morning
As the misery was dormant and digging in crispy portions
Corporates fund, allure 'em, and they whore 'em
Or does he whore to corporates to expand the more important forums for 'em?
Push the mortar pestle past the ordinary orchard
When the frilly border's faded is the product mine or yours, pig?
Mine, plus I toss a token where I go:
Directly to the worms who shovel shit and yellow snow
This little piggy went to the market with a target
And will subsequently know the armor-piercing forks of farmers
Final words for the finer birds taking notes:
I dig a chicken pig tills, "That's all Folks!"
Pigs!
God damn... pigs!
Potbelly... pigs!
Punch-drunk... pigs!
Take money, money... pigs!
Loudmouth... pigs!
Wide load... pigs!
Let's make a deal...
