The Flesh - Feed Me - Kool Keith

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