| Yeah, yeah
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| I know they hungry
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| But I don’t think they want it inside
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| Well, I’m gonna keep force feeding them till comets collide
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| They vomit they lies and act all astonished when I
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| Spit blood on a verse that is honestly mine
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| Right from the artery
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| A part of me courses through these blue veins
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| I’m starving in the lunch line
|
| Eating up the food chain
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| Giving anorexia a new name
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| It’s for the people who get full
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| After a few grains of loose change
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| So who’s to blame
|
| Fools who hang on what the people said
|
| Or maybe it’s they sidekicks
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| Who try to keep their ego fed
|
| I got the needle and thread
|
| Sewing up they windpipe
|
| So maybe they can stop inhaling other people’s insight
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| I’m midnight snacking on rapping
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| To feed my appetite
|
| I see you jokers acting like those crumbs will keep you satisfied
|
| Yo, they must be on a passion strike
|
| I see the picket signs shouting
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| Everybody who wants some props, just get in line
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| Serving number 37
|
| All of y’all just wait
|
| Good job, now pat yourself on the back
|
| And detach your vertebrae
|
| Slip a disk
|
| You three-inch floppies make me sick
|
| Need to reboot quick
|
| Cause now you’re dealing with the Zip
|
| And a hard drive
|
| The live Firewire taking the SCSI out
|
| They thinking about making a big noise but never shout (Shh!)
|
| Let’s wake the baby with a baseball bat
|
| At least the screaming has a meaning, cat
|
| Consider that
|
| Consider it- Consider it a
|
| Consider it a promise not a threat, that we wreck mics
|
| Consider it- Consider it a
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| Consider it accomplished, keep your windpipe sealed tight
|
| Don’t eat, Don’t eat
|
| Don’t speak, Can’t speak
|
| Can’t eat, Can’t eat
|
| Can’t speak, Don’t eat
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| Force feed, Force feed
|
| Force feed, Force feed
|
| Force feed, Force feed
|
| All of y’all anorexic
|
| Dude, they might be hungry
|
| It seems they’d rather shrivel and die
|
| Well, I’mma force feed 'em, treat 'em
|
| Till they choke on their pride
|
| They shielding their eyes, but no complaints
|
| These fucking stow-aways catch a free ride
|
| Like chim-chim in the trunk of the Mach 5
|
| Backwards I’m bending and mending every broken stitch
|
| Steady, fending off bulimics
|
| Rock the same old shit
|
| Well, I think it’s all they got man, so won’t you let it live?
|
| Nah, they can watch me kill this fucking beat
|
| Cause I created it
|
| Why is it that they never take a risk
|
| When they laying bricks?
|
| My weight alone will serve them
|
| While they serving my favorite dish
|
| Spanish rice burritos and a plate of fish
|
| Damn, that sound good as hell man, I’m tasting it (Yeah)
|
| Now is it making sense?
|
| We eat, sleep, and pay the rent
|
| To make a track
|
| Wreck a show
|
| And laugh at y’all that play the bench
|
| Like, ha ha-ha ha ha-ha ha HA!
|
| Now, Yo, Let’s rap man! |
| (Yeah!)
|
| Consider it a promise not a threat that we wreck mics
|
| Consider it accomplished, keep that wind pipe sealed tight
|
| Consider it a promise not a threat that we wreck mics
|
| Consider it accomplished, keep that wind pipe sealed tight
|
| Consider it, Consider it
|
| Consider it, Consider it
|
| Consider it. |
| Consider it
|
| Consider it. |
| Consider it
|
| Consider this. |
| Consider that
|
| Consider this. |
| Consider that
|
| Consider this. |
| Consider this
|
| I say fuck em
|
| Yo, yo, yo
|
| Turbo, ok, stop! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hunger Pains Three , by - P.O.S. Song from the album Ipecac Neat, in the genre Иностранный рок