Feed The Beast

The Lonely Island

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    My car, my house, my kid, my spouse
    My team, my dream, I gots to feed the beast
    My glutes, my bod, they say: My God
    My tris, my calves, my thighs
    The hits, the tags, the sex, the crabs
    The road, the bus, my tiny little nuts
    Your finger, my butt, you know what's up
    The bumps, the slumps, the motherfucking umps
    The fans, the heckles, the girls with the freckles
    They're trying to distract me from trying to be special
    These pompous fucking pitchers trying to strike your man out
    And these scummy bloodsuckers looking for a handout (out)

    The stress, the press, the beautiful mess
    The razors I use to shave my chest
    The bills, the pills, the views from the hills
    My streaks, my ruts, my tiny little nuts
    My mom, my burden, I'm not a virgin
    The aches, the pain, the heat, the rain
    The lies, the secrets, José, I'll keep it
    And Mark, I'll keep it, we'll keep our secret (our secret)

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    Feed the beast
    Feed the beast
    Feed the beast

    They say it's lonely at the top
    But I got hella homies, like Mark
    Plus the guy that gets my blow for me
    Plus the guy that gets my 'roids for me
    And my cars for me and my money manager
    That collects my dough for me
    Plus my private bodyguard
    Always on patrol for me
    Plus the lady that I pay to suggest Merlots for me
    Plus my agent, my real best friend
    Yeah my agent, he'll be there 'til the end
    My sports agent, I trust him with my life
    The only one that truly understands my strife
    Together we'll achieve the most amazing heights
    He knows what I like and he treats me right

    Song details

    Composition: Akiva Schaffer and Andy Samberg

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