Source: http://www.sing365.com

Pigs [Hidden Track]
   ------Aesop Rock

Sharks in the dunk tank, vipers in the garden
locusts stole the groceries out the local farmers 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 which I'll aim for -
the gluttonous muddy stomachs under the pudgy cakehole
two-track braniac usin' 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' cough smolder off the C.O.E.B.A.
If Noah had the benefit of hindsight on his ship
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he coulda snatched two unicorns and left behind the motherfuckin' pigs

Goddamn pigs!
Pot belly pigs!
Punch drunk pigs!
Take money money pigs!
Loud mouth pigs!
Wide load pigs!
Let's make a deal...

When all the wolves in wooly wigs have huffed and puffed and blew the bricks
the skulls of Brooklyn's cruelest pigs will rain up Fulton's newest kicks
as mulish swine of all surrounding counties sniff the gruesomeness
we'll 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 hunted truffles in fistfuls but it was all bells and whistles.
Bougie this and bougie that – war pig or pussy cat
Glitzy to the porks ribs had to gold leaf the booby traps.
Powder pink, double-breasted mess of mud and money
Waddle to the fire to make his stubborn tummy roggle
I'm all "I don't really know the working details of your tribes
I know that that's one ugly fuckin tie,
asshole" pigs

Goddamn pigs!
Pot belly pigs!
Punch drunk pigs!
Take money money pigs!
Loud mouth 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 is dinner
then dance until the sun has kissed your blisters in the morning
as the misery was dormant indignant in crispy portions
Corporates fund alarm 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 borders 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 chick in pigtails "that's all, folks!"

Goddamn pigs!
Pot belly pigs!
Punch drunk pigs!
Take money money pigs!
Loud mouth pigs!
Wide load pigs!
Let's make a deal...