Atmosphere - Barcade lyrics

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Atmosphere - Barcade lyrics

[Verse 1: Aesop Rock] Uh Duck, duck, I'm too next Punks jump to get suplexed My two cents is y'all fu*ked up So come buddy up with these moose heads I get blood and guts on my work clothes So no turncoats and no funny stuff I go turbo, ya do run run, or get chaperoned back to bumblefu*k Rabbit holes on rabbit holes, with no long goodbyes, I just vamonos I might reappear as some vagabond who yell dirty words into a traffic cone Ain't sh*t but some sick joke, I don't mix well with this milquetoast Day ones get wished well, but I give hell to these bridge trolls It go late night, I'm no saint, I'm so gone, don't change I ain't old school, I ain't new school I'm more no school like snow days Stowaways start popping out, posse up on y'all stomping grounds Mainstays turn nomad, it's still no match for these foxhounds Smokestack, I'm dead inside, four wheels, one hell ride Two hands with ten middle fingers, one sh*t grin, two pecked eyes All pressurized Ante up, my tantrum is on full tilt Drum roll, come talk tough, I'm like cough cough, it's all bullsh*t [Verse 2: MF DOOM] sh*tty fingers in your weed jar This whole world is like VR Free shows at the rebar All hokey and yeehaw Keep plucking your guitar See par dipped off the price is right Free car, we are Bob Barker, much darker Black parka, fat marker Mic sparker Metal face, more bodies than a Night stalker Ramirez switching all the he says, she says Prefer to follow her Unless she itching between these legs Meticulous, hero shine, zero swine, green eggs Pack got more whiny rappers that's more annoying than scene kids Villain crush green dust into fine powder Vanilla Dutch, pop clutch, feel rush Feel up on the real nuts No pause, rappers all broads, no bras Violating all the smoke laws White lies, folklores, bleed out, no gauze Zombies with their headsets Nah, he's not dead yet, bet Been centuries fighting armies and these death threats [Verse 3: Slug] Take a breath before we sink into the depth of darkness The rich people are tryin' to eat you, better protect your armpits Mommy, pick up your telephone and accept the charges I'll see you next thirsty Thursday when I collect your garbage They unfamiliar, but they still present respect regardless Never starvin' for attention, never begged for pardons I checked your references, they all said that you're extra harmless I'll straight up fu*kin' son you, then I'll catch some bargains I might be your plug, it depends on where your heart is You might be my plug, it depends on where your farm is I'll take a smart dog with sauerkraut and Parmesan And you can find me tryin' to make party until the stars are gone First-time caller, tryin' to holler at Martians I might be servin' cauliflower at the farmers market Rest in peace to all the energy outside of the margin And leave a candle in the window, that's for Michael Larsen