Hunt The Rich Songtext / Lyric

You have no soul you have no heart

You'd chase an animal to see it torn apart

Blood junky you're full of shit

You want a kicking? you'll fuckin' get it



Sick perverts dressed in red

We won't rest until your "sport" is dead

Sick bastards dressed in red

We won't rest until your sort is dead



A child's face is smeared with blood

A torn corpse is lying in the mud

This your tradition is fuckin' sick

We're gonna stop you, you fuckin' inbred prick






Sick perverts dressed in red

We won't rest until your "sport" is dead

Sick bastards dressed in red

We won't rest until your sort is dead



Sab is ridden down by rich toff

Masonic handshake soon gets him off

We won't sit back and take this shit

Into the field and put an end to it



"The saboteurs, in my opinion. They are a very good example of their name they are saboteurs - And I quite accept everybody's right to their opinion and to demonstrate - but to actually endanger and harass and throw stones and threaten and use abusive language - that has to be stopped."



So sab the hunt you know you should

'Cos don'r forget! They'd hunt us if they could

We'll take their thugs, put 'em in the ditch

We'll save the fox and then we'll hunt the rich



HUNT THE RICH!



"We don't make demands of the rich. We just want to get rid of the bastards right?"