Happy Pillz Lyrics - Aesop Rock

MURS, you should go get us some food 

Alright, this is the best I can do. . . what do you want? 

Aesop's getting hungry 

Well what do you want? 

What's on your mind, Big MURS? 

Shit, the end of the world with a wife at home I pretend is my girl 

Did you take your meds today? 

20 milligrams worth, but I'm still so amped I can kill a damn verse 

What's on your mind Aes Rock? 

Shit, the roaches in the kitchen that I scream on 

everyday but for some reason they don't listen 

Did you take your meds today? 

Yeah, 20 milligrams worth, but I'm feeling so amped I can kill a damn verse 

I was cooling at the park with a couple of other Jukies 

An animated glitch suspended like milk money bullies 

I calculate my comfort zone by how baggy the hoodie 

I calibrate pyrotechnics on how crappy the jewelry 

(I keep it Dirty) Like What? 

My vibes on that old "Ha ha ha Stick 'Em" 

Like a 1950-something wire hanger abortion victim 

99 bottles of happy pills on the wall 

Take 'em down, pass 'em around before me and MURS eat 'em all 

I was cooling at the park with a couple of other Jukies 

We were paused taking on all comers like some bookies 

Rookies running up with their run-of-the-mill raps 

Crashed, hit 'em all up with hundreds of ill slaps 

The Harlem Backslap just happens to be my favorite 

You take it from your shoulder then you take 'em to the pavement 

We don't take shit but we take our medication 

And we bust them raps back to Prozac Nation 

I wanna go home, I need to take my happy pills again 

I wanna go home, I need to take my happy pills again 

I gotta go home, I need to take my happy pills again 

I wanna go home, I need to take my happy pills again 

Blockhead, this beat sounds like the theme song to the 

Huston 500 Marathon Fuck-Fest 

Get laughed at like dude last in line tryin' to fuck that's suspect 

Who's ante's up next? Duck I'm buckin' with bonsai column big pimpin' 

With less money and women, money that's slippin' 

Now it's Golden Eye with sniper rifles in the temple 

Holding my bludgeoned-to-deranged cups, my triple doors tucked 

Flip a little wrong tough, it's the right stuff or the wrong stuff 

Wrong lyrically I'm not stuff clutch upon the mic because you suck 

This does sound like the beat from a porno flick 

Before we get up off the stage go and warn those chicks 

That we're comin' with that oven-fresh DiGiorno Dick 

I wanna fill you up, then fill you up 

Bang this dick into your stomach until you reveal your lunch 

Shove my 8 into your face and make you taste your cunt 

Nah, not really, 'cause my girl would surely kill me 

I only rest my cock when my XBOX enthrills me 

MURS is my pharmacist cupboards full of Klonopin 

I'm a serotonin re-uptake inhibitor, bronze US monument 

See me in hell cashing in on that See You in Hell thing 

Decompose like Dorothy water bucket clutch which people smelting 

And I seldom seen these weeks without the medicated crust 

Settle uncivil circuits that make the cut 

I'll tell you what, I'ma freak the fuck out if someone 

doesn't let me use their phone 

Yo, MURS I gotta go home 

Aes Rock is my pharmacist, he doesn't own a farm 

But he owns a gang of pills that'll help and keep me calm 

If you're taking this too serious I'm just gonna bomb 

I'm just screwing with your head like to do em out with brain 

Surgery inside a shed, I take the same meds 

As Iron Mike Tyson, my life is rollin' out of control 

Don't need a license to drive myself crazy 

Catch me on his next album as long as Aesop pays me 

Go to sleep, go to bed 

Go to sleep, go to bed 

Go to sleep, take yo ass to bed 

Moherfucker better go to sleep 

Def Jux! 

Motherfucker, what? 

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Photos