"Babies with Guns" as written by and Anthony Simon Ian Bavitz....
Radio check check
Video check check
This is how the city-folk and mole-people connect-nect
Somebody warped the message, tried to pass it to the next next
Data-perforated counties making you upset-set
Harvest all Brand-X Clark Kents to worm food
Carbon heart, buried his nozzle in fossil marker art
Pardon, cadaver had a legitimate pulse
And littered volts all over the village where the skittish pigeons molt
Bastard polter-gasps when the pigeon with Lazarus billy-goat whiskers
He roasted sea-salt in the open blisters
But blind anarchy slips through the cracks
See naked martyrs with Bubblelicious on fishing rods itching to pull it back
With that organic invention incubated to have some ?? to make it through
?? on paper now, a lot of details later
And lot of crews will taper out
A wooly mayor souse, who ?? happy shooting at the bladed mouth
Bazooka Tooth zoo-keep the paper route with janky funds and favors
Cradled by twelve empty Zelda heart containers
Man, it's freezing in this brick bitch, winter forever
Like Punxatawny Phil found with his four furry wrists severed
I walk face-first through the sex, drugs, and church
With wild things that make Maurice Sendak question his early works
But no hostages, no promises
Out the clock corporate constant sprockets
Now clocked-off grommets
Running from a rabid ring-wraith click basilisk
Serpentine, in and out of traffic jam and murder scenes
Scrub blood of the AF-152, pick up first degrees
Some toddlers smuggled Tommy guns and crack into the nurseries
Dog, there's a fucking baby at the door asking for wallets (yeah?)
And those ain't twin Beanie Babies inside his pockets (nope!)
2010 sonograms showed the Magnum formed directly out the fetus
Evolution for the young killer convenience
Radio check check
Video check check
This is how the city-folk and mole-people connect-nect
Somebody warped the message, tried to pass it to the next next
Data-perforated counties making you upset-set
Magazine check check
Paper route check check
This is how the hermit and the busy bee connect-nect
Somebody's losing track of their flesh-and-bloods and arrests-rests
Polka-dotted landscapes, what did you expect-pect?
Now a-days, even the babies got guns
Diaper snipers having clock-tower fun
Misplace the bottle, might catch a bad one
Have a mid-life crisis when you're ten years young
If this Jesus piece around your neck is bigger than your pistol
It makes homicide okie-dokie and your god will forgive you
Just show the saints at Heaven's gate you should be on the list
"I heard he overlooks manslaughter for a tattooed crucifix"
Twisty, fishy, contradicty, wild animal ship fleet
Off the sliding board dock of the Mr. Turtle pool mom bought
Somewhere they laminate dry bones and cool water and ease medulla
After you thumb-suck and diaper-change get burped and shoot the school up
I'd do it too, but only to exploit no-brainers
Teenager beef passed alligator teeth and extra-curricular flagpole scrapping
Amongst tadpoles that have yellow backbones
De-mechanism brought airborne shrapnel scraps to hassle captains
By the itchy index of an umbilically-garped fraggle baby
Fragile maybe, you think?
Chopped shop and a mislead, maladjustee trustee locked box
Hiding clips that light the sky in seconds
like newly communal hop-scotch gives them leverage
Cut them with mortars while I mumble
in the immortal slang of mushmouth for the anti-led Nirvana
I used to think I'd get hit by a bus or something dumb and dumber
That or bust the slugs plugged by the newest kiddie thug wonder
Self-victim kings who rep a wide pride dosage
For tomorrow the holsters are bound to outnumber the roaches
I'm not a coach
But that won't even jolt the immobile
when global terrorism's all the rage and folk get smoked local
Block, if you need me (yeah?)
I had to bounce to DC (yeah?)
To bullet-proof mom's flower garden before the war cheats me (yeah?)
If I'm not back in a week tell the crew I said "peace" and lay low
Strays don't vacate slow
Radio check check
Video check check
This is how the city-folk and mole-people connect-nect
Somebody warped the message, tried to pass it to the next next
Data-perforated counties making you upset-set
Magazine check check
New flash check check
This is how the hermit and the busy bee connect-nect
Somebody's losing track of their flesh-and-bloods and arrests-rests
Polka-dotted landscapes, what did you expect-pect?
Now a-days, even the babies got guns
Diaper snipers having clock-tower fun
Misplace the bottle, might catch a bad one
Have a mid-life crisis when you're ten years young
Aboard the battleship grey sky
The day I got the phone call Jam Master Jay died
So now I'll probably never write another "Daylight"
Because the stingers ?? a ?? into the portable hay-rides
It adds it up when a pioneer fall, in comparison to your 99 bottle of beer wall
There's banana peels in your hamster wheels, hand cannons in your shoebox, please
Mine's got Adidas, rest in peace
Lyrics submitted by Mellow_Harsher, edited by LTdesign
"Babies With Guns" as written by Ian Bavitz Anthony Simon
Lyrics © THIRD SIDE MUSIC INC.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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Should be "Punxsutawney Phil found"
punxsutawney phil being the groundhog who determines whether or not we will have 6 more weeks of winter. Hence the "winter forever" line preceding it.
"Cradled by twelve empty sell the heart containers" = "Cradled by twelve empty Zelda heart containers"
"With his sore furry wrist severed" = "With his four furry wrists severed"
"I duel, too, but only to exploit no brainers" = "I'd do it too, but only to explain(exploit? not sure.) no-brainers" referring to the previous line
there's a few other minor things but i lost track of them for now.
Aww. Look how cute he is. Aww.
Stupid baby.
Yeah. Let's go.
Radio: check, check; video: check, check
This is how the city folk and mole people connect
Somebody warp the message right, I'll pass it to the next
Now the perforated county's making you upset
Harvistor brand ex-Clark Kents to worm food
Carbon heart
Buried his nozzle in fossil marker art. Pardon?
Cadaver had a legitimate pulse
And littered folks are with the village
Where the skittish pigeons molt
Bastard poacher gasped
With the pigeon with Lazarus billy goat whiskers
He rose to sea salt in the open blisters
But blind anarchy slips through the cracks
See naked martyrs with Bubbilicious on fishing rods
Itching to pull it back
With that organic invention incubated to hatch
Some can try to make it fructose on paper now
Iron the details later and the crews will taper out
Of wooly mayors ousts?
Through piggy jammy happy shooting at the bladed mouth
Bazooka Tooth zoo, keep the paper route
With janky funds and favors
Cradled by twelve empty Zelda heart containers
Man, it's freezing in this brick bitch
Winter forever
Like Punxsutawney Phil found
With his four furry wrists severed
I walk face-first through the sex, guns, and church
With wild things that make Maurice Syndek
Question his early works
But no hostages, no promises
Out the clock corporate cogs and sprockets
Not clogs off gromits
Running from a rabid Ringwraith clique, basilisk, serpentine
In and out of traffic jam and murder scenes
Scrub blood off the AF1 fifty two pick up first degree
Some toddlers smuggled tommy guns and crack into the nurseries
Dog, there's a fucking baby at the door asking for wallets
And those ain't twin Beanie Babies inside his pockets
2010 sonograms show the magnum's worn directly out the fetus
Evolution for the young killer convenience
Radio: check, check; video: check, check
This is how the city folk and mole people connect
Somebody warp the message right, I'll pass it to the next
Now the perforated county's making you upset
Magazine: check, check; paper route: check, check
This is how the Hermit Inc. and Busy Bee connect
Somebody's losing track of their flesh and bloods in arrests
Polka dotted landscapes, what did you expect?
Nowadays even the babies got guns
Diaper snipers having clock-tower fun
Misplace the bottle might catch a bad one
Have a mid-life crisis when you're ten years young
Hold up
If the Jesus piece around your neck is bigger than your pistol
It makes homicide okey dokey and your God will forgive you
Just show the saints at heaven's gate you should be on the list
I hear he overlooks manslaughter for a tatooed crucifix
Twisty, fidgety, contradicting
Wild animal shit bleed off the sliding board doctor
To miss the turtle pool mom bought
Somewhere to laminate dry bones in cool water and ease my doula
After you thumb suck and diaper change
They burp then shoot the school up
I duel, too, but only to exploit no-brainers
Teenager beef past alligator teeth
And extra-curricular flagpole scrapping
Amongst tadpoles that have yellow backbones
Team mechanism brought airborne shrapnel scraps to hassle captains
by the itchy index of an umbillically-garbed fraggle baby
Fragile, maybe, ya think?
Chop shop and a misled maladjusty crusty lock box
Hiding clips that light the sky in seconds
Like doing communal hopscotch gives them leverage
Cut 'em with mortars
While I mumble in the immortal slang of "must-not [sleep]"
For the anti-lead nirvana
I used to think I'd get hit by a bus or something dumb and dumber
Now the bus is slugs plugged by the newest kiddie thug wonder
Suffered through Kingsley
Rep a wide pride dosage
For tomorrow the holsters are bound to outnumber the roaches
Not a coach, but that'll even jolt the immobile
When global terrorism's all the rage your folk get smoked local
Block[head], if you need me, i had to bounce to D.C.
to bullet-proof mom's flower garden before the war cheats me
If I'm not back in a week tell the crew I said "peace, and lay low"
Strays don't vacate slow
Radio: check check; video: check check
This is how the city folk and mole people connect
Somebody warp the message right, I'll pass it to the next
Now the perforated county's making you upset
Magazine: check check; news flash: check check
This is how the Hermit Inc. and busy bee connect
Somebody's losing track of their flesh and bloods in arrest
Polka dotted landscapes what did you expect?
Nowadays even the babies got guns
Diaper snipers having clock-tower fun
Misplace the bottle might catch a bad one
Have a mid-life crisis when you're ten years young
Aboard the battleship, gray sky, the day I
Got the phone call Jam Master Jay died
So, no, I'll probably never write another Daylight
Because the stingers tend to cling more than the portable hay rides
It adds up when a pioneer fall
In comparison to your ninety-nine bottles of beer wall
There's banana peels in your hamster wheels
Hand cannons in your shoebox, please
Mine's got Adidas, rest in peace
Get at me.