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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Aesop Rock
Performer
Blockhead
Performer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Blockhead
Producer
Lyrics
Ayy
Pulled pork sliders
Headed for satori in jorts and horse blinders
I'm more for the sordid, got nan for the normies
Cornered, my storm got plans for the Dorothies
I storm off, forged from my gramp's war stories
Short sword swinging like a dance floor in the forties
My oars both row in a ocean of fringe science
The low road's owner of the most pinched lighters
I maybe got a thousand
My crane kick plays like a train through a mountain
My neck chop plays like blades on a frisbee
All tally-ho, had the whole place in a tizzy
Is you widdit?
Fake name, wake made of windswept village
Visit where the simps get skittish
Some get a signal to the ships in the distance
Most get crickets, it's slim pickings
Folk say I'm difficult
I'm too stubborn
It's funny, I'm real easy
Y'all buggin'
I like film cameras, and slim chances, and
I always put the chips in the sandwich
Yeah, bitch, picture a hiccup in the curriculum
Clearing off his coattails, tones yelling, "Finish him"
Stone-faced, always with the same two sidekicks
One, no, both are comedically oversized fists
Pack a wallop, I wallop a whole pack of punks
Pretty much a grizzly plucking sushi out the salmon run
Troubleman-ish, I'm an apple with no tree
I'm ground swell crashing every castle at Jones Beach
It's beautiful as Jolene hair in the sun
Or any adversary wrapped up in an area rug, oh, Jesus
Aes loves all animals and plant life
Songbirds eat from his hand, you goddamn right
Odd man out, bad hand fanned out
Trying to man up, man down
Folk say I'm difficult
I'm too rigid
It's funny, I'm real easy
Y'all trippin' (Ayy)
Every time an influencer offers advice
I feel years coming off of my life
I feel blood shooting out of my ears
Still, I'm apparently a sucker for these houses of mirrors, okay
Homeboy, I could turn a dollar into two
With no job, all I do is hit a pot with a spoon
To anybody clocking to copy his every move
Catch a birdie from the window of a rocket to the moon
Got a double-wide enclosure at the back of the zoo
Got a cat named Kirby, she could rap good too
Gadzooks, it'd behoove you to slow that roll
Around here we turn jokers into smoking holes
I'm a fever dream, I seen trouble nobody knows
Still show his home county how a nova explodes
That's a whole lot of woah on the stove
That's a whole lotta holes in your prose, gross
Folk say I'm difficult
I'm too defiant
It's funny, I'm real easy
Y'all wildin'
Writer(s): James Simon, Ian Bavitz
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