Busdriver - Here's To Us lyrics

Yeah yeah a-yeah a-yeah Hey, let me talk to these people Ey, I got the 20-something rap guy anthem right here in my hands y'all check it out It's for you young buck, or old buck, or middle-aged buck Whatever You got a face like an imperiled vagina You're from a Carolina [?] name has a umlaut and parentheses You embody foot and mouth disease So it's right that you write a book about MCs It's like, cheers Chorus: Here's To Us And all the nothing that we promised to do Here's To Us Who else is gonna be the son is with you It's clear enough We're near the cusp Of a long-encompa**ing Stroke of genius I need you to leave Peeves We've had enough of your sh** well should we help you? Cuz I spit butane uh Is it inhumane if I uh Just get a few things Yeah I'm in stores with engorged grocery lists I ain't buying I'm scratching off my homies' sh** A weeknight's a rewrite of Moby Dick I sleep tight and dreaming hearing pre-flight safety tips My room smells of steamed rice and baby sh** Cuz I'm consumed with what gets played through the cross fader How ya mean I'm Lebron James of the Bronze Age Renaissance n***a [?] ball play I missed a job in the views of movie sets The vaporized weed with a jacuzzi jet Cuz now I won't be the spokes man and for booty sweat And break character for school I'm an anti-socialite On karaoke night I request Deep Purple It makes my sacra complete though it's a semi-circle But the dance floor's a cla** war dress rehearsal I won't stand for it I'm sipping Merlot in the first row like, cheers Chorus Oh! My personal unemployment rate is cringeworthy And my party don't stop until about a six a thirty In the morning I break it in the afternoons with my dick dirty Knowing I'll be dead and famous before I hit thirty But if I studied I could have been a neurosurgeon Instead me and my band are busy circle jerking Squeezing out a stroke of genius for rights to our intellectual properties are gonna need more subpoenas They're like You should make a mixtape You should make a s**tape For all the hater and bottlers that slept late I'll write a screenplay Yeah, that'll be the day The musings of Tina Fey become a personal [?] Oops When I say cheesy sh** the CD skips My MP3s are 10ccs are pretense So sing my praises with your teeth clenched On smart phones that speak French My songs are going for three pence s**er! But you said you k**ed over a song Now you write tunes that you need a vocoder on I'm trying to retire to Boca Raton And escape the business end of the popo's baton And like, cheers Chorus This one's for us Not you Even though we know you well At least we did in the 90s We don't like you anymore Yeah