Fast Food World - Promoe, CosM.I.C, Bushman

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