| Verse 1:
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| Here’s your order:
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| It’s all bloody, covered in shame
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| the slaughterhouse where four number’s your name
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| I hate this place, the urine, the pain
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| they try to clean but can’t get ride of the stains
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| So full of life, next minute she dead
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| I never could figure this blood spillin' in vain
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| and they call it my work, yo the give me the blame
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| for more than X million a insane killings a day
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| with machine’s sent straight from hell
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| stabbin' your face Norman Bate’s motel
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| Death traps and kidnaps, cows and pigs that
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| lay wide open on the floor with big rats
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| runnin' around, germs havin' a field day
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| Bacterias all over the steelblade
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| sprendin' me throught the meat industry
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| I’m death I bet you’re not pleased to meet me, it’s…
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| Chorus:
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| Murder
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| Supplyin' bloody meat for a fast food world
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| Murder
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| Supplyin' bloody meat for a fast food world
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| Verse2:
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| We keep 'em comin' no time rest, now
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| Here’s your knife, cut 'em up by the chest, now
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| Upside down so the blood run out
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| After that clean it out till the guts come out
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| Now, there’s no end I’ve been begun at eight
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| seventeen days straight I’m always runnin' late
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| I’m workin' overtime, but I’m underpaid
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| the campany treatin' my like fuckin' slave
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| Need to little cash so i can run away
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| but the light at the end of tunnel ain’t
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| visible, I’m too tried got a stomach ache
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| Can’t concetrate, it must’ve been sumth’n I ate
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| Then he suddenly slipped and he slit his wrist
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| Broke his neck in the fall midst the shit and piss
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| Thinkin' 'bout his little sis' and the bittre twist:
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| now he’s dying like campany’s sins were his
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| While his boss a real Mr. Slick
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| dismissed the union that could’ve ride the risk
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| but he had to have peple workin' triple shifts
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| Ain’t no accident call it what itrealy is, it’s…
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| Chorus:
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| Murder
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| supplying sickness in a fast food world/
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| And is a murder/ supply coruption in a fast food world/
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| I see murder…
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| Verse 3:
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| Steppin' through the golden arches
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| where murder is neatly packed and heart rates
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| increase with the grease smarin' on my domepice
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| Extra chees ! |
| I’m takin' that to go please
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| Cloggin' up my artories, part of my wanna leaove
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| My apology is simply that time is robbin' me
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| Nobody see the commodites is still victims
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| So is the one buyin' the shiie from hell’s kitchen
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| Stunblin' to the ground, pains the abdomin
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| paralizin' his body like something stabin' him
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| but the doctor’s found nothing wrong when examinin
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| Two days later his wife came home paniking
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| Yo, she faund him on the couch with the remote control
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| hangin' from his cold hand they just spoke on the phone
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| The autopsy show it was the E. coli
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| Bad luck with bad some meat? |
| Nah, it’s probably…
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| Chorus:
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| Murder
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| supplyin' sickness in the fast food world
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| I see murder
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| supplyin' poison in the fast food world…
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| Outtro:
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| Well, nothin' with the eye, mouth or teeth
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| Rasta no eat
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| and I’m not jokin'
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| Rasta no meel
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| Nothin' with the eye, mouth or teeth
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| Rasta no eat
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| and I’m not jokin'
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| No, no, no |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fast Food World, artist - Promoe. Album song The Long Distance Runner, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп