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Insane Clown Posse

"Psypher 3"

[Verse 1: Violent J]
Well DJ Clay came with a dope track to roll with, underground like Anna Nicole Smith Big J, Duke of the darkness turn the best rapper alive into a carcass
I might keep my hand just like a pipe bomb sweeter than coconut pie, right mom? J-U double G-A to the LO, letchya nuts hang straight to the flo, yes, I like fat on my chicks ass, poundage, that make my di*k splash, 17 or 71, I got di*k for everyone
f*ck fear, suck right here, di*k in your nose hole nuts in your ear, rape yo face like a warlock wylin', wear your panties to yo funeral smilin, sick seriously, furious, homeless, and alone luxurious, lampin, back alley way campin, raggin, gang taggin stampin
Im, tha joka neden hole poka blunt toka, punk smoka, throat choka, life croaka, grape faygo soda bath soaka squeeze my noze and your head explodes with bionic elbows like Dusty Rhodes, I f*ck old fat hoes in they crusty folds, n peel homeless hoes out they musty clothes Ima daaamn fool, no rules too cool for school lick my family jewels, Im hungry b*tch, starving I need this, 9 whoppers and a shake couldn't feed this, clones, with been there n done that rhymes, yall already said that how many times? Its ground hog day, for ground hog years two sticks of dynamite f*ckin my ears, Dayton family, Boondox, A-B-K, somebody take me away, Clay, Twiztid Hutch B-L-A-Z-E, the hatchet is the place to be

[Verse 2: Jamie Madrox]
Never faded appreciate every-time I look in the crowd n they recitin all of our rhymes that we kick, call it holiday more free sh*t from Twiztid, passin the microphone with free spit, the style is linguistic, verbal and sadistic, where b*tch motha f*ckas need purses n lip stick, we sick to tha finish and bring ya everything u need we the best these b*tches ain't even in our f*ckin league. Im n MVP when it comes to flows, hope you brought your umbrella Im finna rain on u hoes, Im bent like an elbow, Im folded like a crease, Im drunk of the grey goose, and pineapple peace, to the ones that rock and stay down with what we do to the rest of I'm like a bus driver takin em back ta school pack a lunch all you punks Im out my trunk like speakers n they ears are hot to death and my words are heat seekers

[Verse 3: Cold 187um]
This is a psycopathic public service announcement I eat up, suckas down to tha last ounces, when It comes to lyrical murderin thats me, believe you in the presence of a true ryda rest in peace, ya, I think fo one there's too many gangstas in the streets theres too much hate frustration and b*tches in heat, beef I get it every motha f*ckin day of the week and if I have to pull the heat I hope God rest ya soul, psycopathic assassins smashin on all you non believers group pleasers n di*k teasers I dont ever pause for a second I stay heavy Im from the west where they dip Chevys and stay ready biaatch

[Verse 4: Blaze Ya Dead Homie]
You know Im low down and dirty and married to the game I was raised on the streets of drive bys and car jackins, you packin? Better be covered in Kevlar, you dont have a clue about the awesome note I sit on, Mossburg spittin, twelve gauge sittin in my left hand blink n u sinkin like quick sand, Blaze is the name ain't a damn thing change but the the time on the watch 2012 they say it stops and Im only getting started no room for half hearted on my team, cavities I clear em out like Listerine, ur lips blistering, how they react to the slap, swollen up like collagen too much with Carmex Im a no school fool with a new school style, tried n true and guaranteed to make ya go wild, rip rhymes end-times unload tha nine the world dies like Gloria Gaynor but I survive

[Verse 5: Anybody Killa]
Im just a killa from east baby check my stats, the only native representin with these warrior raps, got a heart that bleeds courage and I can't be stopped, b*tch Im the cream of the crop, somebody gimmi my props, this is murder mitten music so Im killin them fools breakin all of they rules its time to send em to school Im just a painted up, freak n Im not alone the scent of the underground be my hatchet cologne , when you see us, betchya wanna be us, if u ain't representin psychopathic than u might as well just be dust, ashes to ashes and laid to rest to all them artists out there who ain't showin respect, motha f*cka if you really try n stop our shine guarantee you at the end youll be fallin behind, here goes a hot 16 straight tellin the truth now rewrite yo rap book and lock yo self in the booth b*tch

[Verse 6: Monoxide]
Im a bad dreams night mare, an Im everywhere like the internet homie and u just aggravatin like spyware, I put I knife through eyeware n thatll leave ya blind but still alive so u always know that im out there, u ain't a monsta or a beast u just anotha neck that I choke up like a leash, and Ima keep growing like diseases in the street and run rampid with a passion thatll bring you f*ckin leaches to ya knees, b*tch please I dont apologize to none talk sh*t n ya delt with, Ill bring the f*ckin sun outta the sky just to light weed and melt sh*t from a whole different dimension an no intervention can help this, we ain't the ones that u mess with, cus we can flip it up like a coin 'n you're headless, down between yo legs like a b*tch as she pregnant, its Psychopathic fam in this b*tch on some next slit neck sh*t

[Verse 7: Shaggy 2 Dope]
Some folks call me Joey, but most call me Shaggs
f*ck skinny jeans, its 42s in my shoppin bags, and my waist and nothing but a 32, which leaves plenty of room for my 20 duece, plus rockin plain 3x tall ts and thats weighin in soakin wet a buck 70, not to mention the rocks stuffed in my shoe soles but never skippin for flippin to them feinin hoes f*ck the Adams my family be Juggalos 'n if we was a movie the Thing would be my roll cus my hands be doin things my brains take control like choking on necks and bangin random neden holes my psychopathic homies, we like stealth bomers doin damage cross the countries undetected by your radars, then one by one, BOOM, hit ya with nuke get the underground runnin make the surface dwellers puke suits on the outside the mat tatted skin are nothing but joker cards b*tch thats a kin if trait from the outside workin ways in, happy smilin faces, opposite of terrorism, they gave us 1,000 ways to die we chose one, we got a 1,000 ways to get funds, see it our way or u best to f*ckin run bet a 1,000 FBI agents got Juggalo sons bout to follow in they foot steps and be cops so we takin over like it or not 2 full on generations workin on three indestructible trunk on this ever growin family tree barely makin loot, on the sh*t you hear 'n see still breakin new grounds and we 20 years deep yet we still getting younger ain't that somethin? The clowns ripped up a Benjamin Button

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