Lyrical Breakdown of Gun For The Whole Family - Instrumental - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Before shooting troops was cooler than hula hoops

High noon was your basic who's who of brutal truth

Hot summer gun or box-cutter slow dance

Turn a young'n to a dozen paper dolls holding hands

And tricky was a wooden horse pushed up on your porch

So chicanery was yours to engage or ignore

I was on the latter, but a lot adopt pawns

So we carried lawn chairs and buckets of popcorn

(Pass the popcorn) Brawl fair, cop car

Voyeur hawk him out his hinges, storm door splinters

Clamoring about, hammers out about to ring

Infiltrate each others tribes and murder each others queens

Packed to the very last rafter

Clung to the rafts and the cameras to capture the damage

Neck swivel with a chomp chomp volley

Where the ants leave nothing, but the bones and the car keys

Pardon if his two feet fester, it was rude of me people, meet left and lefter

Planted like a model of civility and honor for the sector

But never got his extra extra

Peace for the better but it wasn't entertaining

So they waited for the tazing from the safety of his haven

Like bees to the honey when they lumped you up

Cause bumper cars are only funny when they bump

Know that...

Hot summer gun or box-cutter slow dance- popcorn, popcorn...

Hot summer gun or box-cutter slow dance- capture the damage

(Yo, this dude talks real slow yo... Crazy

Yeah man that's my boy Steve; he just talks like that, it's weird

That is weird.)

Tune to "Hellemundo" for action packed blasphemy

Big city translate your face til it atrophy

I let the schadenfreude boy out actually

Deployed to void with grin to watch laughingly

(Yeah bitch) Pass the P's it's a laugh in

I can smell the tragedy when hatchin'

Happily dispassionately patched in

Alive with the menace of demise

Like, "Yes!" the pain dazzles men, pass the popcorn

(Pass the popcorn) It's reality at it's fastest

And yet it still unravels at a pace like molasses

I guess the last of the seconds before the worst of disasters stretch past us

Wouldn't you agree that it is fabulous?

In the corridors of entropous wars contort drastically tilted fits

I adjust to climates of the wilderness

Walk along my spine take the pilgrimage

Up in to the section that's reserved for the smirk of the coldest witnesses

Work you motherfuckers (hooray!), there's all day to die

Innovate the mayhem with grace

The good-form-fall, fuck if I'mma warn y'all, nah

I got the front row to the greatest entertainment that an angel never saw

Sixty thousand watts of that raw

"Pull the claw out of the trunk" fun, each one teach one how to club one

Look at how they bathe up in the dove blood

It's gonna be a night of thrills and chills where the sacred is made of mud mud...

Each one teach one how to club one- popcorn, popcorn...

Each one teach one how to club one- popcorn... wouldn't you agree that it is fabulous?

(Yo honestly, if your man Steve really talks like that... uh, that's not really normal...

Yeah, that sucks... Yeah, it's pretty bad...

Nobody's voice should sound like that.)

It was a lazy day, it was amazing grace

It was a half-a-dozen claymores daisy-chained

It wasn't daisies and crazy

Eights, it was an ace of spades over a waiting game of slaves

And saints, and every trainee face-painted while his great

Escape grazed and ate

He'll never make it, when he aims he shakes

And I was overly engrossed from a very locked door

With a couple milk duds and buckets of popcorn

(Pass the popcorn) Clap clap, encore, monkey in the middle study

How the bunker took the missiles, age of machines with nary a green

Screen, so the hecatomb is every bit as cutty as it seems

I could tell the pet from the vet, money where his canine's spread

And never welshed on a bet, that said, know the over-under

On your local hunter and you'll profit off his widow-maker's

Numbers every summer, bump in the night, funny, will he catch and release 'em?

Has he mercy, will he hack 'em to pieces?

Is he dirty, will he hassle policeman and security breach until impurities leak over the circuitry?

And nada milk and honey there is only skulls and bunnies

That hop around drunk in the land of a hundred Mondays

God damn, pop the redenbacher proper and

For Christ's sake get this man a doctor!