Lyrics of Numb (To The Guns) by Aesop Rock
Atop the news this evening
This just in
Thanks, Bob
Due to extreme technology advancements
I′m able to report to you live here
From what military officials are calling a 'hot zone′
As you can see and hear
I'm right in the middle of the battlefield
Our Pentagon regulations asked us that we are, uhh
To stay towards the, uhh, back of the unit
But let me see if I can bring us a little closer
So you can see exactly what's going on
What′d I miss?
900 cc′s of the raw in one fist
The bum's dumb blitz
Order in the court where the mortars jump bricks
Everybody, lung on the table, this point counterpoint
Aesop has the murkiest, yet he numb out the prowler oint (uh)
And after bubblegum, he sink into the sofa
Clicker to pilot his broadcasted choice of cobra (hissssss)
The venom remains the same game of stale toxins
Camo′d with the now ornamental satellite options
Whatever's good I got this grave half dug (true)
But Yani covering taps to make the pain worse than it was (nooo)
Playin marbles (playin marbles)
Hit by a bus (hit by a bus)
Death is sweet (death is sweet)
Hell sucks (sucker)
Damien probably wishin I′d donate a fuck
But this shit's chiller than any conversation I′ve had in months
The iron fang drew 'em all loopy (real loopy)
So when he extended the hand the planet's Kujo′s went Snoopy
In perfect synocaption, burnt to crispy critters
Like synchronized swimmers in boric rivers
Mmmm, poor soaked critters
Lick chop dig-in, who dares lick a shot at pigeons?
Why I oughta? (Vast get em!)
He surfs city circuits for the power and the glory
To the cowards in the quarry you will always blink before me
It′s Doc Roc full-effect, campfire stories
Like I "Threw Your Momma From the Train" to try to front on "Porkies"
He finds the garbage more inspiring than the good stuff (right?)
His ink sleeps while the military look tough
Look, I'm sorry, crooked priority list
But Mr. USA-up-all-night′s blackened heart already skips
I'm ′bout to crash this bitch to hibernate
Tell Wolf Blitzer holler at his boy when he hosts "Blind Date"
It goes spit on CNN and force the war back through the cable box
Where M1's are like stage props aimed at latest names dropped
So now he ignorant, right? (Right?)
No, he just accepts the inevitable apocalyptic syllabus
Sing along, Zooka dies of chemical poison, and watch ′em
Bring it on!
Dag nabbit, that cat's faster
I dead opinions and swap it out for the urges
Of a serpent tryin to stuff it in the jam before the curtains
He's numb to the guns (right?)
Thanks to the tank cams
Glued to the box like the opposites will shake hands (nooo)
Enough hell for the world′s hand baskets
Enough cells for the world′s hand captured (c'mon)
Numb to the guns (right?)
Now, he touch buttons that′ll re-route imagery
Yes dawg, he recognize the history
Yes dawg, he recognize the misery
But switch for element of surprise and demise
From m-16's or disco and hula-hoops
Murder the fads before the fads murder you and yours
Me and mine find T&A on TNT
Pleasin′ to the iris more than TNT on DNA (oh)
Morbid but important (right?) I know, stop
Mork porked Mindy in this episode, watch
POW be buzzin by the rumbling cannons and less amateurs, bystander analyst
Went through the "Holy fuckin' shit I′m gonna die" phase
Now it's "Well, I'm gonna die, let′s get this barn′s sides raised"
So when they ask what's your opinion on the war?
I tell ′em "War sucks donkey dick. What's the Knicks′ score?"
Maybe it's his allergies, no horns and pitchforks (umm, umm)
Dusk muskrat (uhmm) 11 tusk jab (uhmm)
Elegant bloodbath, leggin it, egg ′em on
Television preg-a-nant and medicine is born
Get a mean doubt, community duel glazed over blank white sockets
Lookin for a heavy seven richter to shiver the crocs right up out they options
Novacaine, blood corpse, spoon though the Lochness
Hostage, no shame, suck the fear out his muck
So when the nozzles hit his nostrils
He don't give a fuck
After all, it's just like on TV around the clock
The thorns are real and anger management is not
He′s numb to the guns (right?)
Thanks to the tank cams
Glued to the box like the opposites will shake hands
(Put ′em up!) Enough hell for the world's hand baskets
(Ha!) Enough cells for the world′s hand captured
Numb to the guns (right?)
Now he touch buttons that'll re-route imagery
Yes dawg, he recognize the history
Yes dawg, he recognize the misery
But switch for element of surprise and demise (c′mon)
Fortunates
It's like that (hahaha)
Yeah, we don′t watch, uhh
We don't watch the war
We watch fuckin'
Fuckin′ bikini car wash
Shit′s more amusing to me these days
Sorry if that makes me an asshole
Writer(s): Brad Delson, Mike Shinoda, Joseph Hahn, Chester Charles Bennington, Robert G. Bourdon, David Farrell
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Last edit over 3 years ago
Convexed
Album • 2003 • 20 tracks
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