Lyrics:
The Millionaire Meatpacker died Far from the place where the man with the bloodstained hands Lifted his ax and started the whole thing from scratch
of rainforests and pharmacies The Africa of diamonds and jewelers The Africa of cattle and meatpackers The Africa of Miriam Makeba and Saartje Baartman The Africa
det er selvsagt Ekte er ekte, en gammal sak Mat er mat, som en weak rapper Ring en meatpacker, homie sant er sant Sipper noe fransk vanskelig å uttale
spittin' That's Brooklyn acoustics not the district of meatpackers Or chocolate factories or lead actors It's simply "starring as himself" In sitcom intro
the water, When the meatpacker came home early cnd killed the butcher's daughter. The judge said it was justified cnd sent him on back home To a son without
Life, Liberty, Happiness A Secured promise Meatpackers sons grow up Around a carcass And are very proud to be Americans Regardless
and the Meatpackers mackin puttin things in relief So baby sit in the seat never touch the levels. Just bump the beat Feel the fibe. Cop my style on this bitch
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