Astronautalis - "Wait 'till You See My Kids" lyrics

Me and Fat Joe sat inside the back of an industrial-strength delivery van I couldn't catch a clear view of the drivers face But I could tell it wasn't a feminine friend The ground plans for battle were all laid We were just takin' some time to kick it, eat grapes and parlay It was just him and me in a van with the gate agate We taste the grapes, spit the seeds in the street The highway was a scalpel splicing the sands Impressive impression of man's demand for the connection of lands I look back at Joe and laugh Give the grapes a puff and a pa**, spitting another seed out of the back Joe squints his eyes, lets out a sound that can only be described as A laughter and a sad goodbye His pale olive fingers pry another one of the fruits of the vine "We should return in ten years time" I ask him why "So we can drink the wine from the orchard that has grown From the seeds we alone cast aside" As the sun sank lower on the sand Dust sprayed from the tyres that picked up the grains Displayed them in spirals Held the last grape up to eclipse the sun The breeze plucked from my fingers and the lunch was done My father was an engine driver Grandpa fought some wars Hope that I can maybe size up Leave my mark at all My father was an engine driver Grandpa fought a wars Hope that I can maybe size up Leave my mark at all Me and Tupac Shakur sat inside a doughnut shop Sharing a dozen and watching our coffee cooling One by one the box slowly emptied From the cakes to crullers and at last the fancies Pac sighed aloud so I could hear him "Doughnuts are communism" I asked him why He said "Better in theory" We laughed and scratched the sleep from our eyes He said "This is ridiculous - twelve is too much half a dozen wastes our time" "And every time we order twelve thinking we can handle it" "Every time we end up pissed because we made our stomachs sick" We both laugh a bit - gingerly sip our coffee His fingers scrape the table top and he digs in it softly And I watch him there - carving, scraping - sitting in silence Engraves his name with the word "westside" beside it Underneath the orange veneer of the doughnut shop gear There's an earthy brown flesh that excavation makes appear Year after year Pac and I return there Table that he claimed with the matching bench chairs Chug the last of our coffee and step to leave Say "Peace" to the clerk, she says "Goodbye" in Chinese Clutching our sick stomachs we both struggle to speak Shake our heads, split our waists and say "See you next week" My father was an engine driver Grandpa fought some wars Hope that I can maybe size up Leave my mark at all Leave my mark at all