Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Flesh - Feed Me, artist - Kool Keith. Album song Thee Undertakerz, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 31.12.2007
Record label: Indie Power
Song language: English
The Flesh - Feed Me |
| Got bloody bodies all around me, I’m chewin out on somebody’s flesh |
| I love the smell of rotten corpse like maggots diggin all through your chest |
| A gravedigger, tomb raider, quick to get in yo' spot and make a mess |
| Rip the head off your body, sip the blood straight out yo' neck |
| Black Nosferatu walkin the streets feelin the city not as a threat |
| Look at the public and that, panicked manic man straight on yo' set |
| Black mask, long machete and the blade is covered with blood |
| Dirty suit, guerilla boots, and the whole body’s still covered in mud |
| Walk the cemetery at night, 12 midnight with a shovel |
| Speakin to the spirits talkin to me, thinkin is that God or is it the Devil? |
| Feed me, I’m hungry, I’ma chew on your face |
| Feed me, I’m hungry, I’ma chew on your flesh |
| Feed me, I’m hungry, I’ma chew on your face |
| Feed me, I’m hungry, I’ma dig in yo' chest |
| Y’all niggas just be killin me |
| Don’t like my style, just don’t deal with me |
| Y’all niggas just be killin me |
| Even worser than them bitches that envy me |
| Y’all niggas done done all that there talkin, now you bleedin |
| Please believe it. |
| believe it |
| The blood streamin from your vein, two and two, the M-Balmer |
| I’m true to you, you know I got you boo! |
| (boo) |
| Creep through the streets of Los Skandelous |
| Business really boomin up and down the list |
| Niggas can’t handle it |
| Directin funerals of nothin but love |
| What about it nigga? |
| Criminals and drug dealin |
| Or that bitch nigga strictly bout his skrilla |
| Or fucked with me and I peeled yo' cap nigga |
| Always expectin the unexpected |
| Undatakerz, they detect it |
| Don’t be trippin off me… just need to sweat it |
| Gravediggers, strictly fo' they cheddar |
| You said it’s eerie, it’s dreary, you weary |
| But none of mines is leary, y’all niggas can’t feel me |
| There’s more red beans in the back |
| Who cares who know who in the spotlight |
| I’d rather listen to Beelow comin tthrough New Orleans with Project Pat |
| With Skull Duggery, Hollow Tip, and Tre-8 |
| New York should be lovin me, word and I’m fatal |
| I’m comin out of nowhere |
| You see me comin out the under, the master of distribution |
| Out of nowhere like Kane & Abel, in magazines like Big Bear |
| I move units over there, like Pistol and Mac Dre |
| I cuts up and put it out anyway |
| Y’all work for the company and release date |
| When I send all masters to city hall in Bayside it’s gon' be too late |
| 300,000 rappers sittin out on milk crates |
| Skinny Pimp and Three 6, y’all hit them big licks |
| Lil' Jon and the Eastside Boyz |
| Rumble speaker down South with noise, make money mayne |
| No time for F.O. |
| and G.I. |
| Joe |
| Commercial boobs in Belvedere videos |
| Fake chairs and toys, incense on the corner, your rap get destroyed |
| Baton Rouge, you should call me Mr. Scrooge |
| And when girls y’all ridin around with transexuals and dudes |
| Comin to rich men drinkin booze |
| With gators on, fly and shine they shoes |
| I gotta get gas, pick up the girls, change clothes |
| Drop Frank off and Hank off |