| Song | Shovel |
| Artist | Aesop Rock |
| Album | Labor Days |
| I don’t shrug instead of the ramifications of my shovel | |
| Lovin the consequence of uprooting the jungle | |
| I’m huggin the cyclo | |
| Gemini stooped contenders from viewin the puzzle | |
| I don’t budge the motives encased inside the gauntlets hung in quotas | |
| X2 My kitchen sink leaks like your itching to speak a secret ‘bout the world spins yet nobody’s pledged allegiance and why? | |
| His beaming smile knew a private agony that burns | |
| And when the children met divinity | |
| I sat to watch the merge | |
| It goes pandemonium live | |
| Ya’ll mutha ****ers stand up volunteer tantrums while your playin summin vivid | |
| Play your sympathy card till the misery clash | |
| And a basket case is in a classless matrix with elastic stitches | |
| Raggin a bag of lonely poem remnants | |
| Short of breath like you’re short of fresh | |
| You’re a portable mess | |
| Carpetbagger spearheading tear peddeling pretentious art critics, orphans | |
| Trying to dismiss those pioneering their fortunes | |
| You’re a spectacle | |
| Pushin for pedagogue lacin up paper weights walkin on stilts talking | |
| You touched the hand of | |
| God and I’m like | |
| What are all these evils that plagued the hearts of man by sweet talking border patrol until they fold and let them in | |
| You got your life in a basket before you could say instant classic | |
| Like the king of the mountain requires a boost | |
| I’ll bury the hook in my belly just to volunteer at live aid clinics | |
| For the thrill of 9 great mimics with 18 bloody lips, spittin | |
| Beanstalk, chalking outlines before figures fly | |
| Walking uphill trying to get down | |
| Prominent ghost town litigate battle pitch darkness when the light switch hits the *artistry* circuit board breaker | |
| Service in the greater half of nature | |
| See money go wild shook when the exploitation incubated lovely | |
| Warmingly *piggy leader* colony to comfort | |
| Numb enough to deny the sin pins and evil needles even punctured | |
| Till he wont define his | |
| TOURNIQUET | |
| STILL FUNC | |
| TIONS I don’t shrug instead of the ramifications of my shovel | |
| Lovin the consequence of uprooting the jungle | |
| I’m huggin the cyclo | |
| Gemini stooped contenders from viewin the puzzle | |
| I don’t budge the motives encased inside the gauntlets hung in quotas | |
| X2 Burn burn em mostly | |
| Stuck unplucking plumage out the poultry | |
| Soaking in bulk on a sofa with ductape upholstery | |
| Dirty doc stellar space medic | |
| Stoned by the commoners for glowing | |
| Psuedo bloaters * buy them beats till bloated* | |
| Happy trail hitchhikers guide to spanning oblivion | |
| Complete with a thankless 9-5 chapter | |
| You can sign your life after the facts | |
| Wicked soldiers pickin with buddy system logistic motors like | |
| Noah’s ark ticket holders, pivot | |
| All in a days breath | |
| I guess Sandman hit up or shatter a day when television run over baboon heart transplants | |
| Sketching a glass partially empty till their hand cramps | |
| With a iceman dance (?) and stand with a (?) | |
| But maybe | |
| I do Yeah yeah maybe it’s all over, maybe | |
| I won the game before the machine ate my quarter | |
| I mean absorbing attention's a must | |
| You don’t wanna be overlooked | |
| Yeah but you don’t wanna be looked over too much | |
| One up for the dashed hopes of fifty fishermen who crashed boats and the angels who never hit bad notes when harmonising | |
| I’m an armour plated farmer | |
| I’m an archer rising with a drawn bow for the karma where the bulls eye clings and argues | |
| Dense, spreads like new names at the writers bench | |
| Either you drink it or sink it, coz there ain’t no sitting on the fence | |
| You make me chuckle child, it’s hells kitchen now, miss | |
| Recognize your life is merely bait for bigger fish | |
| I don’t shrug instead of the ramifications of my shovel | |
| Lovin the consequence of uprooting the jungle | |
| I’m huggin the cyclo | |
| Gemini stooped contenders from viewin the puzzle | |
| I don’t budge the motives encased inside the gauntlets hung in quotas | |
| X4 Encased inside the gauntlets hung in quotas | |
| X2 |
| I don' t shrug instead of the ramifications of my shovel | |
| Lovin the consequence of uprooting the jungle | |
| I' m huggin the cyclo | |
| Gemini stooped contenders from viewin the puzzle | |
| I don' t budge the motives encased inside the gauntlets hung in quotas | |
| X2 My kitchen sink leaks like your itching to speak a secret ' bout the world spins yet nobody' s pledged allegiance and why? | |
| His beaming smile knew a private agony that burns | |
| And when the children met divinity | |
| I sat to watch the merge | |
| It goes pandemonium live | |
| Ya' ll mutha ers stand up volunteer tantrums while your playin summin vivid | |
| Play your sympathy card till the misery clash | |
| And a basket case is in a classless matrix with elastic stitches | |
| Raggin a bag of lonely poem remnants | |
| Short of breath like you' re short of fresh | |
| You' re a portable mess | |
| Carpetbagger spearheading tear peddeling pretentious art critics, orphans | |
| Trying to dismiss those pioneering their fortunes | |
| You' re a spectacle | |
| Pushin for pedagogue lacin up paper weights walkin on stilts talking | |
| You touched the hand of | |
| God and I' m like | |
| What are all these evils that plagued the hearts of man by sweet talking border patrol until they fold and let them in | |
| You got your life in a basket before you could say instant classic | |
| Like the king of the mountain requires a boost | |
| I' ll bury the hook in my belly just to volunteer at live aid clinics | |
| For the thrill of 9 great mimics with 18 bloody lips, spittin | |
| Beanstalk, chalking outlines before figures fly | |
| Walking uphill trying to get down | |
| Prominent ghost town litigate battle pitch darkness when the light switch hits the artistry circuit board breaker | |
| Service in the greater half of nature | |
| See money go wild shook when the exploitation incubated lovely | |
| Warmingly piggy leader colony to comfort | |
| Numb enough to deny the sin pins and evil needles even punctured | |
| Till he wont define his | |
| TOURNIQUET | |
| STILL FUNC | |
| TIONS I don' t shrug instead of the ramifications of my shovel | |
| Lovin the consequence of uprooting the jungle | |
| I' m huggin the cyclo | |
| Gemini stooped contenders from viewin the puzzle | |
| I don' t budge the motives encased inside the gauntlets hung in quotas | |
| X2 Burn burn em mostly | |
| Stuck unplucking plumage out the poultry | |
| Soaking in bulk on a sofa with ductape upholstery | |
| Dirty doc stellar space medic | |
| Stoned by the commoners for glowing | |
| Psuedo bloaters buy them beats till bloated | |
| Happy trail hitchhikers guide to spanning oblivion | |
| Complete with a thankless 95 chapter | |
| You can sign your life after the facts | |
| Wicked soldiers pickin with buddy system logistic motors like | |
| Noah' s ark ticket holders, pivot | |
| All in a days breath | |
| I guess Sandman hit up or shatter a day when television run over baboon heart transplants | |
| Sketching a glass partially empty till their hand cramps | |
| With a iceman dance ? and stand with a ? | |
| But maybe | |
| I do Yeah yeah maybe it' s all over, maybe | |
| I won the game before the machine ate my quarter | |
| I mean absorbing attention' s a must | |
| You don' t wanna be overlooked | |
| Yeah but you don' t wanna be looked over too much | |
| One up for the dashed hopes of fifty fishermen who crashed boats and the angels who never hit bad notes when harmonising | |
| I' m an armour plated farmer | |
| I' m an archer rising with a drawn bow for the karma where the bulls eye clings and argues | |
| Dense, spreads like new names at the writers bench | |
| Either you drink it or sink it, coz there ain' t no sitting on the fence | |
| You make me chuckle child, it' s hells kitchen now, miss | |
| Recognize your life is merely bait for bigger fish | |
| I don' t shrug instead of the ramifications of my shovel | |
| Lovin the consequence of uprooting the jungle | |
| I' m huggin the cyclo | |
| Gemini stooped contenders from viewin the puzzle | |
| I don' t budge the motives encased inside the gauntlets hung in quotas | |
| X4 Encased inside the gauntlets hung in quotas | |
| X2 |