Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song FEED, artist - Tech N9ne. Date of issue: 16.04.2020
Song language: English
FEED |
| Feed, feed |
| Feed, watch 'em bleed |
| Feed, feed |
| Feed, all I need |
| I’m so hungry, you don’t want to hear this stomach growl |
| Grind so strongly, true you gonna fear this one is wild |
| Gonna pray that I stop |
| When the known threat show |
| All the ways that I lock |
| And I won’t let go |
| To Hell you go |
| When I come at you I yell Cujo |
| 'Cause I rip you the fuck apart like the mail you open |
| With a nail you grow |
| You try to bail too slow |
| I chop 'em up and package 'em then I sell mucho |
| They tried to get away and fell through so |
| If you smell zoo though I’m comin' to quell you bro |
| When I make a person my dinner like I’m El Cuco |
| I eat 'em like insalata, I lead 'em right into Allah |
| I bleed 'em once I meet 'em, run ta freedom or into lava |
| When the shotta holla, jotter hotter than Guatemala |
| I’m T’Challa father |
| Not a maga, the Baba Yaga |
| Saliva dripping |
| Eyes are picking the idiot that standing by the kitchen |
| I try to quicken |
| Rigor mortis, the nigga ordered to die, you gettin' |
| Knives are stickin', N9na kill 'em with my precision |
| I’ma feed off of anything moving, the N9na looking |
| I’ma eat, drink, and be merry |
| Eater for any king ruling I know he shook enough |
| And we thinking he scary |
| I’m 'bout to sic 'em, I’m rippin' this style colder |
| The wild cobra, dead another without closure |
| The way you knowing your life and your route’s over |
| The foul soldier shape shift into Malebolgia |
| Feed, feed |
| Feed, watch 'em bleed |
| Feed, feed |
| Feed, all I need |
| I’ve become my fear |
| My cross I bear and don’t care to clarify |
| I can scare you more than any goon would ever dare try |
| Tell your baby, nobody catch a diverted plot |
| Stirred crazy, apply the pressure and stir the pot |
| Never faze me, why would I let you, you’re a bot |
| You see they doubt you, don’t need a stretcher, they need a mop |
| Their slit is gushing, the killer crushing, get rid of fussing |
| Shit are flushing, the blood spilled and the liquor was in |
| Grip to touch it, was givin' up the Bourbon gluten |
| I’ma hit the button, you triggered something that lit the oven |
| Hidden figure big enough to reconsider rushing |
| But I get to bussing and you get word of a big eruption |
| Then to hushing, the jig is up and the lip is tucking |
| Give you the way that’s never fit in, I couldn’t adjust it |
| On a psycho-path |
| Get to screwing up everything like a carpenter |
| I be scared of myself dead ass |
| Even ruin our lot like a card dealer |
| Pray to God that I never worship a golden calf, nigga |
| But the demons I battle be kinda getting to me |
| Shuddering at the shutter that’s in a photograph |
| Pixelated the bigger picture was looking to me |
| But I keep snapping |
| Spur of the moment, cinematic, I been erratic |
| What you seen happen |
| Into lifefully chaotic, we men of havoc |
| I’m like David Chappelle with the crack sprinkling |
| Never sleeping like I’m resisting a rest, nigga |
| Thought I’m failing, compelling 'em, oughta think again |
| I’m too determined, I’m turning, I’m twisting necks, nigga |
| Feed, feed |
| Feed, watch 'em bleed |
| Feed, feed |
| Feed, all I need |