ICP - Psychopathic

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, Ive been to the storm house and then some Payed me dues but Im still a street hoodlum Dropped out of school cuz I couldnt find my locker Stubbles on my chin, I got hair like Chewbacca Might see me sleeping on the street Dont look for a job cuz theres 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 Im a send her ass home with a foot print on her face Uh, Im hating sluts Shoot them in the face, steb back and itch my nuts Less Im in the sac Cuz I fuck so hard itll break they back All the pressures packed into one nut I was waiting on a bus and my head blew up And the sightll make ya sick Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic Psychopathic Thought you know bitch The ICP is made up of psychotic Demented psycho clumsy motherfuckers And well put a hook on your bumb leg Like it aint nobodys business So Im standing by the train tracks Then you see me running but naked with a battle axe Im swinging and slicing and chopping and cutting and..Aah, until Im 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 ones 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 Ill make a sexist remark Cuz theyre all eventually bitching Serve me fucking take your ass to the kitchen Police dont like me its obvious Just dont look in the trunk Or the sightll make you sick Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic[theme from Halloween]Yeah, Ive always been a psycho Psycho-psycho-sick-psycho-sick-psycho-psycho Ill 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 Im all up in your face You can barely hear the rap with all that bass Im running with a southwest street gang And I never let my southwest meat hang Cuz you know what ICPs all about Take a brick off the street And bust you in the mouth Find the girls daddys rich And his sweet little angels my sewer freak bitch But I filled the turkey up with the stuffing Like Billy Bill say, a bitch aint nothing Grab her by the arm and break Grab her by the life and take it And, ya know, the sightll make ya sick Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic Psychopathic