Lined Pockets

By Eyeque

Released on 2020

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[Intro: Sample of Vast Aire & Aesop Rock conversing]

Yo, (Alright Ok)

Can I get a quarter or something?

Little hungry, you know what I'm saying? (Alright Ok)

Homeless...

I need a loosey, yo...

(Yo...)


[Verse 1]

Went on an excursion for a quest of slight acceptance

Trees bent backwards for any vent of light semblance

Of reign from the yellow king septum

Came across a dead heap of scrambled pride in the present

Sky raisins buzzed for a hematocrit chaser

The oder cause for an amble stride

I wonder if the minuscule murid completed his degree

Might have if the triumvirate could make the widow maker see

Not one of satan’s soldiers could comprehend immaculate pronunciation

Got proton particles half on one shoulder and angelic dust testing patience

It’s complicated, how stated only the strong can make it

Once red dotted none can shave it

Nine double barrels aimed straight shot the heavens

Flying mobiles bazooka clammed shit

Meanwhile righteous cult servants lay in hammocks

Pockets lined with chewed gun powder and lint

Mother hens hatched hainus crimes demented

Asking for any surplus advent shaded sled friend, God send it

Remembrance of anything less than frantic mended

Jimmy altered mind sufficient sulfur Kool-Aid

Dog years, all hell lassoed on a Tuesday

Loot pay is every lunar ascension twenty four paces

Any other power hungry cyclops movement requires sword baking


[Segue 1: Vast Aire & Aesop Conversing]

Ay uh, yo excuse me (Ay Yo) yo

Can I borrow a dollar or something? (Ah sorry man) Nickel?

(Sorry man, I can't help you out dog) Quarter?

Something, man? (Yeah I only got enough for like cigarettes and shit man)

Alright man, I see how it is. (I'm straight)


[Verse 2]

Walked into the store with a pocket full of lint and flower seeds

Passer by’s march to pawns walk coward’s deed

Hassle me if you want an inner flame lit by a crow’s beak

Slowly inch beetle crawl to the chip aisle

Like a sneak king with six nine weed on a mission for hit time

Bodega guardian zoned like he snorts the restroom piss lines

Pig whistles blare blood and ocean silence beat to the maiden marches

I hate it beyond existence of alienated slug men with humans plated

Forced execution of inhuman fate by a dated sergeant, arm this

Branded by plugged in reality bumping fully retarded mockery

Grab el producto off metallic ledge, quest complete honestly

Now transform to counter patient looking to make God-less seed

Shady character make-shift appearance straight outta gutter

Demon powder caked trust fund homebody, not prove to make the heart flutter

Stutter’s I’ll take a frap with iced gut butter

Don’t leverage me with an offer I can’t refuse

I only got a pocket full of nickels, not enough to beverage you

Settled, finally got the package and empty gut, hand

How are you doing? No answer, scan intelligent born baby impregnation, no news

Accompanied by Miss America’s blow-head doll with slut dudes

Realization sets in, not enough for the produce

Let me just go grab my card from my apartment. Prove it!

Test me, don’t abuse your privilege solutions

Finally out of the store same bum camp asking for retribution


[Segue 2: Vast Aire & Aesop Conversing]

Yo (ay what's up man?) Yo can I ohh...

No.. Never mind, man. (I can't help you out man)

Asshole! (Yo man, I'm trying to help myself out right now)

Fucking asked you for a loosey and you turned me down. (Dog, I'm sorry dog!)


[Verse 3]

Apartment coped up by death wish thoughts and promises

Brain imploded, caught the shit that made villagers vanish

Even the convenience dude’s smile banished

Strolled out in the cold, 7 inch freeze sickles grow between each toe

I don’t know, same coat, no happy accident or framed fro

A different Bob glow, twin peaked on each shoulder homed

The red curtained one talks more convincing

Tears and melancholy leisured transform to word mincing

No more poor me, chorus be

Life’s alimony ain’t storied

The end is here, pour me another forty

I’ll be the one gorging

When the clock strikes twelve

All cognizant cogs pikes valves

Primal rage begins to spike dwell

Hell, can’t imagine a world without it

Or with it, life can’t go on, I don’t doubt it

Just hope my acts of pranced anxiety not spotted

Returned to the birth place of thought’s fully developed

Collapsed on hammock plugs, can’t spell guts

Comedic how veggie plates saved by grace yet all intelligence sucked

By Moon rotation, every nerve’s synapse fickled

Dead man’s labor hides no key for a chest, just a sin and a sickle

No more confidence, one pocket, no lint and absolutely no nickels


[Outro: Vast Aire & Aesop conversing]

Excuse me, man. (alright ok)

Can I... Can I borrow a dollar or something to eat?

(alright ok) I'm... I'm hungry

I'm saying yo... (alright ok) (Look at that..)

I'm homeless, man. (Look at that bum) (alright ok)

I fought for this country, man. (yeah)

Sleep on park benches... starvin'

All I need is like a loosey and like a sandwich or somethin', man..

Wiping my ass with the Daily News man... c'mon man...

Sleepin' with squirrels... (Oh my god, What are you doing with that squirrel?)