ICP: Psychopathic

The ghettos of America are breeding groundsFor the criminal mindedAs for years they have killed one another ofAnd America has enjoyed its creationBut now these ghetto-minded criminalsHave crossed the line into your neighborhoodAnd will soon give you a taste of the hellThat they have lived for so longSo pops, this time its your son gets shotDeal with your own creationWell, Ive been to the storm house and then somePayed me dues but Im still a street hoodlumDropped out of school cuz I couldnt find my lockerStubbles on my chin, I got hair like ChewbaccaMight see me sleeping on the streetDont look for a job cuz theres no jobs looking for meThen it all went to my headNext, forty-nine motherfuckers deadTell the pigs I did itPlace spot at your backAnd beat you in the head with itAnd keep your bitch in placeOr Im a send her ass home with a foot print on her faceUh, Im hating slutsShoot them in the face, steb back and itch my nutsLess Im in the sacCuz I fuck so hard itll break they backAll the pressures packed into one nutI was waiting on a bus and my head blew upAnd the sightll make ya sickViolent J, motherfucker, psychopathicPsychopathicThought you know bitchThe ICP is made up of psychoticDemented psycho clumsy motherfuckersAnd well put a hook on your bumb legLike it aint nobodys businessSo Im standing by the train tracksThen you see me running but naked with a battle axeIm swinging and slicing and chopping and cutting and..Aah, until Im nothingSeems like I always get beat downLike the hawk turned to the wicked clownTail turned out to the ghetto cuzSouthwest Detriot is comended ones homeSo you might see me at a festivalCussin, rude, and scratching my testiclesWith a cold two-liter in handRapping to the bitch at the french fry standTake it to the Patent ParkThen Ill make a sexist remarkCuz theyre all eventually bitchingServe me fucking take your ass to the kitchenPolice dont like me its obviousJust dont look in the trunkOr the sightll make you sickViolent J, motherfucker, psychopathic[theme from Halloween]Yeah, Ive always been a psychoPsycho-psycho-sick-psycho-sick-psycho-psychoIll throw rocks at stray dogsBuild crackhouses out of Lincoln logsI cut class, said I was a fakerYou was in school, I was home watching Green AcresNow Im all up in your faceYou can barely hear the rap with all that bassIm running with a southwest street gangAnd I never let my southwest meat hangCuz you know what ICPs all aboutTake a brick off the streetAnd bust you in the mouthFind the girls daddys richAnd his sweet little angels my sewer freak bitchBut I filled the turkey up with the stuffingLike Billy Bill say, a bitch aint nothingGrab her by the arm and breakGrab her by the life and take itAnd, ya know, the sightll make ya sickViolent J, motherfucker, psychopathicPsychopathic