Promoe - Fast Food World lyrics

Verse 1: 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 k**ings a day/ with machine's sent straight from hell/ stabbin' your face Norman Bate's motel/ d**h traps and kidnaps, cows and pigs that/ lay with 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 d**h I bet you're not pleased to meet me, it's... Chorus: Murder/ Suppolín' bloody meat for a fast food world/ (repet) 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 f**in' 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 sh** 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/ Ani't no accident call it what itrealy is, it's... Chorus: Murder/ suppolín' 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 sttabin' him/ but the doctor's found nothing wrong when examining 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/ suppolín' sickness in the fast food world/ I see murder/ supplyin' poisen 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