And it was on, the dawn of a new day. 13 Hellalujah 4:57. guitar, vocals. Trunk full of Faygo, car full of fat chicks. United we stand, squashing all deadly forces. Lock the house, and wait for em in the street. Saying Twiztid is the shit, and I'm down with the clown. A bitch, nothing great. Fuck em all, fuck em all. Egyptian Pharaoh, coompata. I'm not gonna let this pass me bye, no. And smell like shit, and live in the gutter, and sell. Therefore, they did the most unoriginal, low-brow thing they could think of... they sold out to religion... Christianity to be exact. Icp pass me by lyrics. Try to land in a glass of Faygo. Drip a drop of blessed water.
Tell me what you would do to make. This is all because of you! He's a skitsofrantic, serial killer clown.
He lives in a mansion on his own private road. Old-ass man, I let him get away. Mass murder makes me happy! I'm still here under the moon.
There'll be no worry about being moved out. Except for all the juggalos and the love that they bring! It's Twisted, Blaze and ICP, And if you're fuckin with my dogs then you D-I-E! Sharon, let's have your last question and. Piggy pie (old school). When you're having supper. Cut the lights, see that shit, I'm glowing.
She's got another friend with her and her dad's rich. Ticket please, thanks walk through the doors, into the. That first impression really stick". For just, uh, six thousand dollars, we can. The good stuff is better, but the bad stuff is just as bad. Here come the piggy, it's time for my case. Whats yours is mine it was mines is yours. I sit down, and got a piece stuck in my butt cheek.
Things go bump in the night, me creeping. I'm steady staring at your sister, I'll tell you this. And he told me you're gonna die. Make your mom happy, keeping it soft. Nah, fuck that, since Basement Cuts, motherfucker. The hooks are better and the Posse is especially a lot of fun when they stick to this whole Dark Carnival thing. Pass me by icp lyrics and guitar chords. Serial slaughtering stranglers. And I'm down for life, yo. Did ya ever burn your finger on somethin? He's not a dumb puts. Fuck that, though, yo, I'm a juggalo. Back to my car, and there it is, another ticket.
"Does the Boogie Man really exist? And your sons a fuckin doctor, phat paid. Mutilated, and tossed out a dead clown. The last little piggy, his house is made of gold. Clowns of darkness and underneath them comes the cloud. I wouldn't be fat, I'd still be hungry and crabby. Look at that shit, "what?
I'm that juggalugga locoroni. I'll break out of this cage and try to cut that. Don't look now your. Now I stretch your neck out and play in like a banjo. Not after deducts, not after the social security, and the. Christian metaphor designed by ICP's handlers as an excuse to justify their stupidity to parental watchdog groups that would otherwise ban their music and put a halt to their careers. Who try to run away and not follow any trends, no friends. Lopped off bucket chillin' underneath my clothes.
Wicked voodoo, dope dark killer. Somebody with a rope tied. That tired motherfucker will probably die tomorrow anyway. We can all just be counting people comeing throughm.