[Verse 1:]
|
Sharks in the dunk tank, vipers in the garden
|
Locusts stole the groceries out the local Farmer's Market
|
All God's critters hold positions
|
Some are violent, some are victims
|
Each alive is an equal and vital piston I support
|
So when the piranhas honor New York
|
My daddy long legs dangled and mangled for sport
|
And while I bring in every dink in the kingdom with open wings
|
It all boils down to them shit-soaked pigs
|
The pigs, the pigs, the dregs of what y'all aim for
|
The gluttonous muddy stomachs under the pudgy cakehole
|
Two-track braniac using the food and payroll
|
To chew up and consume every cookie, crumb, and peso
|
And place a cloven hoof on the lucrative when convenient
|
As the bourbon-odor smokers' coughs smolder off the Cohiba
|
If Noah had the benefit of hindsight on his ship
|
He could've snatched two unicorns and left behind the motherfucking...
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
Pigs!
|
God damn... pigs!
|
Potbelly... pigs!
|
Punch-drunk... pigs!
|
Take money, money... pigs!
|
Loudmouth... pigs!
|
Wide load... pigs!
|
Let's make a deal...
|
|
[Verse 2:]
|
When all the wolves in woolly wigs
|
Have huffed, and puffed, and blew the bricks
|
The skulls of Brooklyn's cruelest pigs
|
Will rain on Fulton's newest kicks
|
As mulish swine of all surrounding counties sniff the gruesomeness
|
We pass around the pineapples and pull the pins in unison
|
I will gladly feed you to the breed who wants you sacrificed
|
No pagan or sacrilege, just bacon for scavengers
|
I will gladly seat you with the chickens, not the passengers
|
Hopefully the crack in his armor spreads to his avarice
|
Never that, Wilburs multiply quicker than triples
|
And hunt their truffles in fistfuls, but it was all bells and whistles
|
Bougie this and Bougie that...
|
War pig or pussy cat...
|
Glitzy to the pork ribs, had to gold-leaf the booby traps
|
Powder-pink, double-breasted, mess of mud and money
|
Waddle off the fire to make his stubborn tummy wroggle
|
And while I don't really know the working details of your tribes
|
I know that that's one ugly fucking tie
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
Asshole... pigs!
|
God damn... pigs!
|
Potbelly... pigs!
|
Punch-drunk... pigs!
|
Take money, money... pigs!
|
Loudmouth... pigs!
|
Wide load... pigs!
|
Let's make a deal...
|
|
[Verse 3:]
|
Apple in his mouth, Maraschino eyes
|
Party like the butcher boy's cleaver is alive
|
I mosey into sixteen hours of smoke in the misty winter
|
To see the county fair's blue ribbon winner as dinner
|
Then dance until the sun has kissed your blisters in the morning
|
As the misery was dormant and digging in crispy portions
|
Corporates fund, allure 'em, and they whore 'em
|
Or does he whore to corporates to expand the more important forums for 'em?
|
Push the mortar pestle past the ordinary orchard
|
When the frilly border's faded is the product mine or yours, pig?
|
Mine, plus I toss a token where I go:
|
Directly to the worms who shovel shit and yellow snow
|
This little piggy went to the market with a target
|
And will subsequently know the armor-piercing forks of farmers
|
Final words for the finer birds taking notes:
|
I dig a chicken pig tills, "That's all Folks!"
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
Pigs!
|
God damn... pigs!
|
Potbelly... pigs!
|
Punch-drunk... pigs!
|
Take money, money... pigs!
|
Loudmouth... pigs!
|
Wide load... pigs!
|
Let's make a deal...
|
|
-----------------
|
Pigs
|
Aesop Rock |