Food Glorious Food Songtext
von Homeboy Sandman

My both hands write day and night and might strike at any time
Me demigod divine
Rewind that
My divine designers where y′all at?!
Me bump and grind
My grinding grimy
Sleep deprived decrying the crimes
Any rhyme that he write hit you right in the eye
This tree of life me a climb till I'm 999
Out my mind Eloping with my bride
LMNOP
Redefine the fine science of the melody
Magnifying your finite capabilities
Me and tribe derived from the wisemen that plotted Orion′s rise
Realize my pedigree
And whoever bred him done fed him amphetamines
Dead center of the epicenter yelling obscenities
Somebody's selling CDs
Yes indeed

NOW THROW YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR
IF NAYSAYERS IS TRYNA RAID YOUR FRIGIDAIRE FOR
FOOD GLORIOUS FOOD
CORNBALLERS AND BUSTERS

NOW THROW YOUR HANDS IN THE SKY
IT'S QUEENS′ FINEST FORTIFIED SO FORM A LINE FOR
FOOD GLORIOUS FOOD
NIGHTCRAWLERS AND HUSTLERS


My eyes keen and sharp
My iris eating readin Marx
I even barf
Uneven bars
I clean and crease and bleach and starch
Starship sarge
Jean Paul Sartre
In control cajoling Joans of Ark
Beware golden arches
St. Ides
And the Ides of March
I′ve spread ten thousand thighs apart
Y'all front hard and hardly are
Foolhardy bark
Hardy har
My top priority; art
Cats playing parts already are in ER
I get on mark and harmony harm
Melody mar
Car tunes
Not Pixar
Many artist′s arses charred by the darn tootin darts that I discharge

NOW THROW YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR
IF NAYSAYERS IS TRYNA RAID YOUR FRIGIDAIRE FOR
FOOD GLORIOUS FOOD
CORNBALLERS AND BUSTERS

NOW THROW YOUR HANDS IN THE SKY
IT'S QUEENS′ FINEST FORTIFIED SO FORM A LINE FOR
FOOD GLORIOUS FOOD
NIGHTCRAWLERS AND HUSTLERS

My both balls swing low
As sweet chariots
Cheerio
In stereo
High ho the derry o
Since infant I's an impresario
And you can bump my bars in the barnyard or the barrio
I′m not a normal mofo
I throw 'bows, blow loads
And sow wild outs
And turned down more snow than the Poconos almost
Not in my nose
So many cornballs I need a silo
My cyanide Mt. Sinai couldn't diagnose
And I been a psycho since I′s a a zygote
My goals are my growth not my gross
Rock Homeboy Sand tees and also polos
Y′all Os and tre ochos sound so pitiful
Yeah

NOW THROW YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR
IF YOUR SOCKS MATCH AND YOU'RE WEARING CLEAN UNDERWEAR
SAY YEAH

NOW PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE SKY
IF YOU UNSIGNED ′CAUSE YOU WON'T RHYME ABOUT HOMOCIDE
SAY YEAH