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Песня:The Flesh - Feed Me
Артист:Kool Keith
песня The Flesh - Feed Me
Альбом:Thee Undertakerz
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The Flesh - Feed Me (Длительность 03:42)


Текст песни Kool Keith - 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

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