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G Slade, Captain Vulpine! - Eat The Rich

from Raised In America by G Slade

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lyrics

Verse Uno (you didn’t)
Rich people, rich people, who'd you buy today?
Say! HOw much did you pay? How many lies you give away?
Rich people, rich people, wonder how you taste
Better with some salt & Pepper or a dash of mayonnaise

I can’t believe it’s not butter, you’re a greasy mother fucker
Eat the rich for lunch and supper, ate your tongue and now you stutter
You play with lives like kids with toys, we’ll treat you like some Chips A Hoy
Crack your nuts like almond joy, and feed you the girls and boys

Your meats are sweet like Tasty Treats, Your bones are home in my calzones
Had to grind them down to paste, like Frosted Flakes, They’re Greeeaaat!
To feed the poor, let’s eat the rich, then listerine and swish and spit,
Take your turn and feel the burn, your time is up, our time has come

Hook
Eat the Rich and Shit them Out Your Bowels (like you do)
We say fuck the one percent, you can't buy your way out of this torment
we'll fill your shoes up with cement and marinade you in a saltwater trench
You think that's slightly demented, wait til you're good and fermented,
We'll mix you up in bloody marys, blood pudding and rum cherry

Rich Bitch Bridge
Who's got the blackest card in your limousine?
Who's got the sexiest locked up teens?
Who's got the biggest lake on their yacht?
Who purchased every thing that couldn't be bought?
Rosemary, baby and sprig of thyme, we'll turn you into gravy for your crimes
Poured on a flambe of your peers, while G and I sit back drinking beers

Verse2222222222
What's a donation? What's the situation? Oh you need to look good in front of the nation?
No hush money's gonna shut this down, toss you in a wood chipper, drag it downtown
Makin' it rain on your little empire
You'll know pain at our rich bitch fry up
Barbecue heiress, they got that in Paris?
I like mine all bloody and rare with
C.E.O Gratin, and loaded mash
tastes pretty rotten, like corned beef and cash
Wealthy spread for a gilded palette
gotta stay healthy with a fruitful salad
fear battered fingers and whipping sauce
You tell me who's the big bad boss?
Shrimp and grits with your little shrimp dicks
fed it to the dogs but it was too fuckin' rich

credits

from Raised In America, released September 11, 2020
Lyrics, Music, Vocals Contributed by Captain Vulpine!

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G Slade Clinton, Mississippi

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