Homeboy Sandman - Oatmeal Cookies lyrics

[Verse 1: Aesop Rock] Hated myself since before it was cool Faced d**h like an orphan of gruel Pardon the drool Four eyes, palm croakies, ominous blueprints And a peace sign middle going "I'm With Stupid" Top stool, drop the pontoon La Schmoove, Don clobber the chronically obtuse Put down the telephone around a crew and double back Summoning a storm from the pulpit of Farmer's Almanac cleanly Separate the chukkas from the bucket hat Hold still, gold fillings jump into his duffel bag Shift, gotta shave for the minions Started out simian, graduated ophidian Fitting in as a fool's heir and unworthy to emulate I don't care, I never really felt cool anyway Back in the cave for safekeeping In the company of Lorna Doone and polyphasic sleeping [Verse 2: Homeboy Sandman] Ten years since I stood still Started on my good foot but running out of good will Still got a sneaker full of pebbles and a Janny full of demos and a pocket full of anvils My dogs are riddled with self inflicted bullet wounds I mixed the bee pollen with the free bowls Cat's already fed up with my lifestyle choices I ain't even stop pretending that I don't hear voices yet I'm stranded on the internet Spilling all my innards in the interviews Turn into a silhouette Running out of substance At least authorities running low on my thumbprints I had to break out from the function 'fore my unlimited metro card turn to a pumpkin But we'll be messin' with the G O D triple O.G. triple G, Gennady Golovkin [Verse 3: Aesop Rock] I anchor in the bottleneck Double-knotted lobster bib Satan spawn, game on, flings to the aqua-net Prickly disposition from the mission statement riddled with the crippling misdirection of a million jaded middles Pretending to be different than the businesses they meddle in Until the whistleblowers separate the skin and skeleton Underneath the hood is all pedestrian, essentially Thespianisms threaded into the documentary, I mean What a ruse, ever-winning etiquette Allegiances have come unglued, tender feet are cherrypicked Little lambs sure to go like everywhere that Mary went Lions get therapy and branded as heretics Single tear, Aes play Taps on the theremin terribly Serenade the d**h of transparency Now we'll ride out out cloaked with no cronies Watching alphas grow up into bronies (Oh, geeze) [Verse 4: Homeboy Sandman] I want a dimepiece that smells as good as McDonald's fry grease that isn't always criticizing my beats I want a single to blow up like Souls of Mischief in nine three so I can get Bobby Sonic a diet cola IV I only want to be a billionare for 48 hours like Nick Nolte, Eddie Murphy, or Billy Beard Longer than that and I'll get bored of it I'll be like water with that sort of - sh** Yeah, backstage is like a Batcave I reach out of it to act strange I hit from a broken back without a back brace When I met my fiancee on the Backpage Thank you for the accolades I'll trade them in, though, for a half a day Everybody ditch the caravan and love and join a cabaret And grab your mammaries Hey