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Tytuł: PSYCOPATHIC

  • Wykonawca: ICP (Insane Clown Posse)
  • Wy¶wietleń: 307
The ghettos of America are breeding grounds
  For the criminal minded
  As for years they have killed one another of
  And America has enjoyed its creation
  But now these ghetto-minded criminals
  Have crossed the line into your neighborhood
  And will soon give you a taste of the hell
  That they have lived for so long
  So pops, this time its your son gets shot
  Deal with your own creation
  Well, I've been to the storm house and then some
  Payed me dues but I'm still a street hoodlum
  Dropped out of school cuz I couldn't find my locker
  Stubbles on my chin, I got hair like Chewbacca
  Might see me sleeping on the street
  Don't look for a job cuz there's no jobs looking for me
  Then it all went to my head
  Next, forty-nine motherfuckers dead
  Tell the pigs I did it
  Place spot at your back
  And beat you in the head with it
  And keep your bitch in place
  Or I'm a send her ass home with a foot print on her face
  Uh, I'm hating sluts
  Shoot them in the face, steb back and itch my nuts
  'Less I'm in the sac
  Cuz I fuck so hard it'll break they back
  All the pressure's packed into one nut
  I was waiting on a bus and my head blew up
  And the sight'll make ya sick
  Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic
  Psychopathic
  Thought you know bitch
  The ICP is made up of psychotic
  Demented psycho clumsy motherfuckers
  And we'll put a hook on your bumb leg
  Like it ain't nobody's business
  So I'm standing by the train tracks
  Then you see me running but naked with a battle axe
  I'm swinging and slicing and chopping and cutting and..
  Aah, until I'm nothing
  Seems like I always get beat down
  Like the hawk turned to the wicked clown
  Tail turned out to the ghetto cuz
  Southwest Detriot is comended one's home
  So you might see me at a festival
  Cussin', rude, and scratching my testicles
  With a cold two-liter in hand
  Rapping to the bitch at the french fry stand
  Take it to the Patent Park
  Then I'll make a sexist remark
  Cuz they're all eventually bitching
  Serve me fucking take your ass to the kitchen
  Police don't like me it's obvious
  Just don't look in the trunk
  Or the sight'll make you sick
  Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic
  (theme from "Halloween")
  Yeah, I've always been a psycho
  Psycho-psycho-sick-psycho-sick-psycho-psycho
  I'll throw rocks at stray dogs
  Build crackhouses out of Lincoln logs
  I cut class, said I was a faker
  You was in school, I was home watching Green Acres
  Now I'm all up in your face
  You can barely hear the rap with all that bass
  I'm running with a southwest street gang
  And I never let my southwest meat hang
  Cuz you know what ICP's all about
  Take a brick off the street
  And bust you in the mouth
  Find the girl's daddy's rich
  And his sweet little angel's my sewer freak bitch
  But I filled the turkey up with the stuffing
  Like Billy Bill say, "a bitch ain't nothing"
  Grab her by the arm and break
  Grab her by the life and take it
  And, ya know, the sight'll make ya sick
  Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic
  Psychopathic