9-5ers Anthem Lyrics - Singles - Aesop Rock

Shit... Vanessa, what time is it? aw, fuck ... Labor. 

Zoom in to the fuming of an aggravated breed 

Via the study of post-adolescent agitated seeds 

Half the patients waste themselves prior to Commencement 

So I focus on the urban Oxygen samples, the hot that made it breathe 

It's so Pompeii impression, waste infections 

And twelve steps to lesson 

Credence swiftly tippy toe and hard to swallow, borrow concepts 

The give-it get-it, never let it self pass the word, eying stubbornness 

Murder talks money causes in a harvesting Spartacus 

And someone, I've thrown long Hail Mary bombs 

Toward cookie-cutter Mother Natures bedazzled synthetic fabrics 

Life treats the peasants like 

They tried to fuck his woman while he slept inside 

Well they're merely chasing perfectionist emblems 

When the clock strikes nine 

I'll be waking with the best of routine caffeine team players 

For the cycle of it 

Under a dusted angel heart but strain Big Brother is watching 

My odometer like buzzard to fallen elk, talking stealth 

We got babies, rubber stamps, and briefcase parts 

We on some door-to-door now 

Order ten dollars or more, we'll shove it down your throat for free 

I'll sacrifice my inborn tendencies 

For copper pennies for one commanding 'Gimme that' 

So we can re-take baby fat 

Make the biter snake bedlam 

Holocaust freak, heckle shiesty brain headroom shaped planet 

Make a move taurus, make a move break cannon 

Bent barrel one date zero, you'll turn, squeeze, end it 

It's on like it's never been 

It's bleeding well 

It's bigger than a breadbox 

It can roast my leaky finance 

I'll take my senior top of the Brooklyn Bridge 

With a Coke and a bag of chips 

To watch a thousand lemmings plummet just because 

The first one slipped 

Sometimes I laugh at victory, kissing these little question 

marks 

I tend to underestimate my average 

Just another bastard savage 

Someday you'll all eat out of my cold hand 

Cuz every dog has its day 

At which point, I'll pull it away 

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Now we the American working population 

Hate the fact that eight hours a day 

Is wasted on chasing the dream of someone that isn't us 

And we may not hate our jobs 

But we hate jobs in general 

That don't have to do with fighting our own causes 

We the American working population 

Hate the nine-to-five day-in day-out 

When we'd rather be supporting ourselves 

By being paid to perfect the pastimes 

That we have harbored based solely on the fact 

That it makes us smile if it sounds dope 

Photos 

It's the year of the silkworm 

Everything I built burn yesterday 

Let's display the purpose that these stilts serve 

Elevate the spreading of the silk germ 

Trying to weave a web but all that I believe in is dead 

Nah brother, it's the year of the jackal 

Saddle up on high horse 

My torch forced Polaris embarrassed 

Shackle up the hassle by the dooming legend marriage 

I bought some new sneakers 

I just hope my legacy matches 

It's the year of the landshark 

Try a sand tarp damn get these men some water 

They're out there being slaughtered 

In meaningless wars so you don't have to bother 

It can sit and soak the idiotbox trying to fuck their daughters 

Man it's the year of the Orphan 

Seated adjacent to the firefly circling the torches on your porches 

Trying to guard the fortress of a king they've never seen or met 

But all are trained to murder at the first sign of a threat 

Maybe it's the year of the waterbug 

Cockroach utter thug specimen 

Your response, dreaming of your next of kin 

I'm still dealing with this mess I'm in 

I've been the object of your ridicule 

You've been a bitch lieutenant 

God it's the year of the underpaid employee 

Spitting forty plus a week 

And trying to rape earth on my off time 

You bought dizzy, I can't keep myself busy enough 

So you can't run run run 

And I'ma let you think you won 

EVERYBODY! 

We the American working population 

Hate the fact that eight hours a day 

Is wasted on chasing the dream of someone that isn't us 

And we may not hate our jobs 

But we hate jobs in general 

That don't have to do with fighting our own causes 

We the American working population 

Hate the nine to five day-in day-out 

But we'd rather be supporting ourselves 

By being paid to perfect the pastimes 

That we have harbored based solely on the fact 

That it makes us smile if it sounds dope 

Fumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen 

Pour myself a cup of ambition and 

Yawn and stretch and my life is a mess and 

If I never make it home today, God bless 

Fumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen 

Pour myself a cup of ambition and 

Yawn and stretch and my life is a mess and 

If I never make it home today, God bless