Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Mums in the Garage’ by Action Bronson. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of Action Bronson or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
I want the yen in the envelope, cookies from the girl scout
Them is whipped, spread wings, bring them furs out
Chew my food, spit it out into a bird’s mouth
It’s only one and I’m already on the 3rd house
Baby seizing upper side ’cause I don’t wanna make it hot
‘Cause if they pull me over, doggie, then I’m splitting like a fox
Into the forest, hide behind the trees, lit the orange
I got your honor under the armpit, I take the charges
Red roses, lay in wood boxes often
Park the ten porches outside the good doctor’s office
Turn my head, cough ’cause I’m smoking on a dead corpse
Leave you sleeping next to a head horse
Spark the rose mary, I saw the pussy and it’s so heavy
Take the leather out the closet like a known fairy
I f*ck it but I won’t marry
They catch me all over the map, getting throwed deadly
Yo, straight out the garage, al bundy with no horse or carriage
Straight out the paratroopers parachuting over paris
Straight out the charismatic, charisma
I call that vision, been ridden by a thick one, divorce and marriage
Beautiful view from out the terrace
While I was out recruiting the crew, another tail from the careless
Side of pocket, caught her staring, then knocked it out the park
Roger merris, I shoot the fair warn, I shoot the sheriff
Not a dollar more and not a dollar less
Fucking any day or time of night
Call her up, call me jimmi walker dynamite
The city stalker with a violent life, silent knife
Uptown of scaper, this ain’t harlem, this is solemn nights
A little crazy, he became a nuisance
Making moves up out the west and got it off without a blueprint
The money talking shit, keep it stirring
I’m 20-20 from my past life and live it reoccurring
Mad man, I rip up stages
Specialized in removing lips from faces
Type of animal only exist in cages
Boy, I traveled over seven seas to distant places
To retrieve exotic pets, karate chop the nipple of your chest
Ring the alarm, this is not a test
Kashmir sweaters made for golfing
Looting a coffin, high enough to communicate with a dolphin
Moron olympics, toss midgets like a discus
Sweat some stitch but ralph lipchitz
Spiff lit, instantly I cook like this quick
Pump room rocking, I’m a bad brain misfit
Laughing while I’m dipping dash and glock weapons
Big bully, foot grass, snuck on rap, I’m hot stepping with aggression
The minute that you drifting is direction
Bubble like indigestion on a rhythm section
Stealing the coffin, mums in the garage