| Bucket-seater theater sucks, I duck and weave
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| Riddle of the pixelated ticker taking prisoners and a number please
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| Name and occupation: Aes, I twiddle thumbs with underlings
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| Orange eyes, head shrunk, age: a million, sex: drugs
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| Barrel in escorted by a chorus line of bedbugs
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| Low-tech dreck from his neck out of cement woods
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| We come in pieces under siege and unwilling
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| Kicking and screaming, creatures summoned to the feet of the city
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| As the parking-ticketed guilty, Beetlejuice in the waiting room
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| Ogling this bird who put the Double D in 'Day of Doom'
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| Personal space invader dais, pay-to-play-to-lose
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| If you can see a sitting duck grow up into a baying wolf
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| Live
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| Teller Number 7 looking weathered
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| Like a decade in a glass box yelling shook her feathers
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| Utter «Unto thee I surrender mine flesh!»
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| She said «Put the yellow sticker on your fender — Next!»
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| Gotta fly in the morning, better pack a potato
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| Raging Bull, Mack truck, leather bag, and a raincoat
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| Curse of the slain goat feather, ticket in late row
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| Double Jack drink, six minutes to gate close
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| Excuse me, Doug E. Fresh, I’m lost
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| Part bad rabble the raffles the rest off
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| Dollar down Noah that goes to the great flood
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| With a Styrofoam finger making it rain ones
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| Take-down bank job taking a blank check in
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| Pine bluff Slim Jim, Jameson, John Lennon
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| Uncle Bobby blasted in back of the wrong wedding
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| Cause I came for the food but I stayed for the prom dresses
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| One-block cabby: «It's gonna be $ 6.80»
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| No shit, your tip is go hunting with Dick Cheney
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| Slow to let the dogs out, quicker to finish Halo
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| That all-black tints and pimpin' the Winnebago
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| The stray cat, dirty finger nail rap scurry
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| From the slash-proof straps of his crail tapped gurney
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| Awestruck, cough guac over scaled back mercy
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| And blast off, casting aspersions overtly
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| Parry absurd curfew, eager to go invisible
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| Sunday drive disfigured and growing tentacles
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| Root down to the brackish water
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| In a speed trap pro demasking marauders
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| Post office locked like it’s jail time is setup
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| Day-labor dimes with the climate of club fed up
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| Walking with a panther chilling with a house cat
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| Till somebody patents building a better mousetrap
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| Out back staking his claim to deep mining
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| Bribed by the sheriff with tariffs that keep climbing
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| Blinded by the light of the 5 train to Dyer
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| Hook, line, and sinker? |
| Horse, main, and sire |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Meter Feeder, artist - Hail Mary Mallon. Album song Are You Gonna Eat That?, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп