Testo Famished (Remix)

K-K-Kato on the track bitch!
Yeah, yeah!
Ces Cru Malitia
PERSEPH1, (Klick Clack) JL B. Hood, Kutty Slitz (Klick Clack!)
Trizz...

What are we going to do about food?
What are we going to do about food?
The smoke in the lights
Snap necks for the checks poltergeist
Whenever the Persephone be holding the mic
Mix 'em in the recipe for koshers and spice
Eat raw, y'all taste like cold turkey that's been fried
[?] will shrimp you then inside
A riot type of hate vibe
Worth every cent at market price
I'ma just get it in
Hand up in this and I spit this pocket rice
Dive into a pull of sharks
That's all for my tribe
Bring back a fish alive
Fix the filet, steal that boy a slip and slide Married to the bars like my name is prescription
Blowing trees hard for that CES and Technicians
Symbols on the paper for the safe I predicted (PERSEPH1, UBI)
They put a little scratch like a whack in the distance

CES militia, y'all know the steed
I spoke to speak so folks can eat
Catch to kill then I slow roast the beef
Fuck can we do about food, no groceries
I figure, twitter fingers turn into fritter fingers
I been afittedly bitter, bit it like lemon zinger
Buffets big as a banquet, you better let it simmer
Winner winner chicken dinner, fuck am I gettin' thinner
Sweet to the center, y'all baby luncheon and chieffin' pinners
My speech and dinner will give 'em something to reconsider
Philosophy of a killer, get me, I gotta eat
Hannibal Lector, I ate his liver with fava beans
Sipping Chianti Italiano, y'all outta ammo
Power my channel devour, y'all don't know how to handle
Pushing pathetic percentage danger is imminent
Came in that whip but I'm Same Same as it ever is
Bitch

Ya ain't gotta plate with enough weight
Man, I'm going, gotta get another one
Anybody hate finna get ate
Chew 'em like a lot of bit of bubblegum
I'm never down and whenever they come for it
I'm up up and away, serving 'em out of orbit
They need to be paying attention but can't afford it
We getting money, we eating, somebody should camcord it
Rippin a meal in a matter of minutes
My team is the meanest, I mean it
Ain't ever seen us, you gotta be blind
It's heating up in the kitchen, we on a mission
I'm prepping whatever's needed, living below the poverty line
Yeah, we the pick of the litter, them niggas' bitter
I'm feeling 'em like the wick if I predicting on whether we blow
We on a wait, all I need is another place at the table
The major labels couldn't fuck with the company flow

Ho-Homie gotta get his
He give a fuck how I get mine
Maybe my name'll make the headline
Doing fed time standing on the breadline
Now I'm hype and I'm fed up
Bout to pull a heist on a bread truck
I cite, red rum, they shoulda never not fed us
What are we going to do about food?
What are we going to do about food?
They shoulda never not fed us
What are we going to do about food? (Joey)
What are we going to do about food? (Lyrical assassin)
You motherfuckers should've never not fed us

If you ain't ever ate up out a trash can man
Then you prob'ly wouldn't understand fam ban
If you ain't ever been around a good man
Thinking for the right price, maybe the can can blend
Or maybe the can jams inside of your hand then
You know the rest, you know how the shit is ran fam
And if you thinking I'ma pick enough to [?] fuck off clown
I gotta get it, yeah, I gotta have it yeah, I gotta grab it
Hey, but I gotta have it with it
But if it was a fifth of the spliff or the piff he leave
With the quip of a drunken stripper too trill and to get a fee
In the seat of a gentleman's club at the back of a VIP
In the baddest part of the hood instead, get up and leave
Killing 'em softly like the homie Kato with ease
Look man, I'm coming up out of the rubble fam is ready to eat 'em
I gotta...

Ay, It's the survival of the fittest
Dust off your feet when you walk in my kitchen
We eating yo bitch if we can't get no chicken
Rotisserie style on a stick like a piggy
Whatever I want, niggas know I'ma get it
I hustle and fight 'til the end of my mission
Even if that involve killing some bitches
Repeatedly digging her out till I'm finished
Pull up, we hop out, so back up your smack
Niggas three deep in the back of the latch
If there's problems, we solve 'em and quick to react
To the drama they causing make niggas relax
Blowin' the best while I'm smoking with CES
They know who to call when they go to the west
If they beefin', I'm beefin' so show 'em respect
If I'm eatin', they eatin' so show me a check

Ownin'-Ownin' one up and lifting the weight of a few of them
Over the oven, dripping the oil into the pan
Doing too much in the kitchen fishy and stupid when
I got a pen and they got a fork and a spoon in hand
Fuck that
Not a free meal, gotta eat still, gotta be real
See a rap, but I detail know that he tell every detail
Where they at when I'm way back from the free mails to the weed sell
I don't hear crap, in a haystack try'na keep track of a needle
Blame it on the louder the sound of new growling stomach
Drowning out all that I see is these open mouths in abundance
All around and you can count on 'em popping up like the sun does daily
Famished bro resortin' to violence you wouldn't wanna pay me
Damage your ego strip it from you like you don't need it
Lay the humble pie down in front you and make you eat it
They disgruntled we could confront you no fucking secret
Hunger I'ma let in a gun or I'm goin' heated

Homie-Homie gotta get his
He give a fuck how I get mine
Maybe my name'll make the headline
Doing fed time standing on the breadline
Now I'm hype and I'm fed up
Bout to pull a heist on a bread truck
I cite, red rum, they shoulda never not fed us