(Violent J)
Killas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this b****, up in this b****
Killas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this biiiitch, blaze
(Blaze Ya Dead Homie)
G's up, ridin' from the cradle to the casket
And beyond, recognize thug s***
Poundin' out the trunk b****
Runnin' wit' a mother f*****' hatchet
you haters, you suck d*** was a thug, became a G
B to the L to the A, Z, E, still dead
Still don't give a f*** (give a f***)
Sportin' all black kahkis with the mother f*****' cuffs up
Smokin' Hella trees, tryin' to make a couple G's
So a thug can get back on his feet
Mean muggin', steady thuggin'
And I'm tryin' to find the hoodrat's all about f*****'
Still loked out
All my dawgs from the past, dead or smoked out
Still tryin' to come up on a lick for a phat a** ride
So I can drop the top, and parlay through the east side
Chorus(Monoxide Child)
n***** kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this b****, up in this b****! x 4
(Blaze)
b****** freeze, you aint a thug or a G or a banga'
You's a studio gangsta
You aint about s***, scared to pull the trigga'
That's what we call, a real b**** n****' (b**** n****')
Sneekin' through the hood, throwin' up a set
Hangin' out the window, yellin' idol threats
Check this out, I'm a check your chin
Close your mouth, 'fore I put the barrel in
Dumpin' clips in yo a** is what I'm all about
Straight G from the clique on a paper route
Still slappin' off fake b****** with the Louiville
Beat a n****' to the pavement, another b**** killed
Chorus(Monoxide Child)
(Jaime Madrox)
This is the battle for the planets
We bring the thunder, givin' half the advantage
F**k a style and a status
Half of y'all hummin' off a half a** deal
And got the nerve to tell a m************ 'keep it real'
We see through y'all fools, like
cellophane on the square pack
You b*** our s***, you can keep it, we don't want it back
We don't give a f***, east side for life
And if you aint got heart, don't
expect to have your s*** tight
There aint no room for the hoe-hearted
We give a f*** where you at, or who you
wit', or how you got started
f*** you and everybody in yo clique
If you don't run wit' a hatchet, or claim the Psychopathic
I aint got time, to say no names
It's only 8 rhymes, no holla', we been in the game
Besides f*** it, no speakin your name
You're just a b**** in the game
And y'all n***** gone' always be the same
Chorus x8
*Hammer slide*
Killas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this b****, up in this b****
Killas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this biiiitch, blaze
(Blaze Ya Dead Homie)
G's up, ridin' from the cradle to the casket
And beyond, recognize thug s***
Poundin' out the trunk b****
Runnin' wit' a mother f*****' hatchet
you haters, you suck d*** was a thug, became a G
B to the L to the A, Z, E, still dead
Still don't give a f*** (give a f***)
Sportin' all black kahkis with the mother f*****' cuffs up
Smokin' Hella trees, tryin' to make a couple G's
So a thug can get back on his feet
Mean muggin', steady thuggin'
And I'm tryin' to find the hoodrat's all about f*****'
Still loked out
All my dawgs from the past, dead or smoked out
Still tryin' to come up on a lick for a phat a** ride
So I can drop the top, and parlay through the east side
Chorus(Monoxide Child)
n***** kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this b****, up in this b****! x 4
(Blaze)
b****** freeze, you aint a thug or a G or a banga'
You's a studio gangsta
You aint about s***, scared to pull the trigga'
That's what we call, a real b**** n****' (b**** n****')
Sneekin' through the hood, throwin' up a set
Hangin' out the window, yellin' idol threats
Check this out, I'm a check your chin
Close your mouth, 'fore I put the barrel in
Dumpin' clips in yo a** is what I'm all about
Straight G from the clique on a paper route
Still slappin' off fake b****** with the Louiville
Beat a n****' to the pavement, another b**** killed
Chorus(Monoxide Child)
(Jaime Madrox)
This is the battle for the planets
We bring the thunder, givin' half the advantage
F**k a style and a status
Half of y'all hummin' off a half a** deal
And got the nerve to tell a m************ 'keep it real'
We see through y'all fools, like
cellophane on the square pack
You b*** our s***, you can keep it, we don't want it back
We don't give a f***, east side for life
And if you aint got heart, don't
expect to have your s*** tight
There aint no room for the hoe-hearted
We give a f*** where you at, or who you
wit', or how you got started
f*** you and everybody in yo clique
If you don't run wit' a hatchet, or claim the Psychopathic
I aint got time, to say no names
It's only 8 rhymes, no holla', we been in the game
Besides f*** it, no speakin your name
You're just a b**** in the game
And y'all n***** gone' always be the same
Chorus x8
*Hammer slide*