9-5ers Anthem Lyrics & Chords By Aesop Rock

Shit... Vanessa, what time is it? aw, fuck ... i late again, i gotta dip
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 half that made it breathe
This old Pompeii impression sways infection in twelve steps or less
And cretins swiftly tippy-toe on hard to swallow barter concepts
The give-it get-it, never let it slip past wrought iron stubbornness.
Martyrs talk funny causes into harvesting Spartacus and so on
I've thrown long Hail Mary bombs toward cookie-cutter Mother Nature's bedazzled synthetic fabrics
Life treats the peasants like they tried to fuck his woman while he slept inside, while 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 harp string Big Brother is watching my odometer like buzzard to fallen elk, hawkin' 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 from one commander 'Gimme that' so he can retain baby fat
Mega biter snake bedlam, holocaust freak, heckle shiesty brain headroom shake planet
Make a move pause, make a move, break cannon
Bend barrel, one eight zero, u-turn, squeeze, end it
It's on like it's never been, It's bleeding well,
it's bigger than a breadbox, it corrodes my leaky finance
I'll take my seat 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

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

It's the year of the silkworm
Everything I built burned yesterday
Let's display the purpose that these stilts serve
Elevate the spreading of the silk germ
Trying to weave a web but all I in believe in is dead
It's the year of the jackal
Saddle up on high horse
My torch forced Polaris embarrassed
Shackle up the hassle by the doom and legend marriage
I bought some new sneakers I just hope my legacy matches
It's the year of the land shark
Dry as sand, parched, damn, get these men some water
They're out there being slaughtered in meaningless wars so you don't have to bother
and can sit and soak the idiot box trying to fuck their daughters
Man it's the year of the Orphan
Seated adjacent to the fireflies 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 water bug
Cockroach
Utter thug specimen
Fury spawned 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
It's the year of the underpaid employee
Spitting forty plus a week
And trying to rape earth on my off time
You bored 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