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