Interested in Cryptocurrency?
Visit best CoinMarketCap alternative. Real time updates, cryptocurrency price prediction...

INSANE CLOWN POSSE lyrics - Forgotten Freshness Vol. 2

Clown Love

Original and similar lyrics
(Teacher) J do you have a Halloween story for the class? (Violent J) Y y yeah um there was this boy and he lived in his house and he went to bed one day and then when he woke up um when he woke up he was buried up to his head in the dirt and he couldn't move and this man came walking along but instead of the man helping him out the man just started kicking him and kicking him in his face, over and over, and then he got the lawnmower, and then he..... Dick or treat, bon appetit All the little kiddies running down my street Gathering candy treats door to door But they walk past mine, what for? Probably 'cuz the pumpkins on my porch are real Real human heads carved out with steel Cut out the eyes, man, it takes but a minute Rip out the b-b-b-b-brains and put a candle in it Maybe they run 'cuz I take 'em inside Come and meet Mother, two years ago she died Little boys laugh, 'cuz they think it's just a dummy But then the smell hits 'em, MMMMM..... smells yummy Open your bags and I'll give you my treat Crusty yellow toes off a dead woman's feet Take me by the hand, and I'll lead you downstairs And that, little chickies, is where you'll spend the next seven years Starving and weakening, chained to a wall Staring at a roach, hoping it will crawl Into your mouth for a tasty cuisine Yes, my little friends, it's a Dead Pumpkins Halloween (Shaggy 2 Dope) Awwwwwwwwww, yeah, it's that special time of year, boys and girls, so come to the pumpkin patch and bring your pantysacks so I can shit in it, you beeeeeyitch!!!!! (Violent J) Well, I love all the kiddies, but I can't fuck around Don't come to my door dressed as a clown 'Cuz you never know, I might take it the wrong way 'Cuz I'm the real wicked juggalokaro Violent J All year 'round, but I love my Halloween You'll never get an apple or a purple jelly bean Dropping some chocolates, a licorice snack Instead you get a deep-fried French poodle nutsack Peeking out my door, I see no children in sight Perhaps they're all dead, yesterday was Devil's Night They burn down the city and they leave it crispy-charred I light myself on fire and I dance around my backyard Hungry bellies, I can see where you're at Sitting on my window, I can turn into a bat Watching you remove all your little clothesies for bed I crash through the window and land on your head Drinking the blood, blood is gone to the bone But now, I must leave, Mother's calling me home Up to the moonlight, I'm gone from the scene Peace to Detroit City and have a Dead Pumpkins Halloween (Shaggy 2 Dope) Yeeeeeeeeah, I'm gonna smash your little candy bags, only I'm gonna tie 'em around your muthafuckin' necks and choke you with 'em Wicked Clown style, muthafucka!!!!! (Violent J) Detroit's in this bitch!!!!!

Ride (Down South)

FOXY BROWN "Chyna Doll"
[Intro] Let's get it hype, nigga Let's get it crump Yeah, yeah, yeah [Eightball] Pass me them Swisher Sweets, let's get it crump If a nigga disrespect me I'mma prove my shit and dump Blast ryhmes like I pump, turn your belly to jelly Veteran MC, I don't think you rookies is ready Three hundred and fifty pounds of pressure to deal wit I run with Suave, always packin' something to kill with Feel this bitch, when I get rich I'mma still hustle Go down in history, paper taller then Bill Russel Kilo flows, I got 'em hid in the basement Choppin boys up, on some puttin' it in they face shit Eight Ball, F-a-t M-a-c-k, known for layin' it down And doin' shit the playa way Callabo's of the dough ain't no secret Space-age pimpin' means I don't do free shit Time waits for no one, it ain't gon' wait for me Yours truly, signed Eightball and MJG [MJG] 1 - All my hard core niggas, what you want to do? My real thug-ass niggas, what you want to do? All my money making bitches if you ride with me I'mma pimp 'till I die and I'mma ride for free Now where them real bitches at Where them real bitches at Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh? And where my buck niggas at Where my buck niggas at Where they at, where they at, where they at, come on [Foxy Brown] I ain't new to this Damn nice bitch that's true to this Money ain't never been a thing to me Always stack my dough, holla back (uh) Ass fat, thighs thick, titties perfect Inhale the cheese from here to Tel Aviv Y'all know it, shit I don't bluff And no dough? I dont fuck 'em Fuck I'mma fake for? Make mine's, I'mma take yours Cuz I'm no nigga like love b'fore Make bitch scream like, gimme some more If a nigga broke, what'd you fuck him for? Waste of time It's like we playette minds Dont stop, get it get it Bitches, take it from a real motherfuckin' pro Y'all get that dough, we don't trust these niggas They gon' pimp if you let them From NY to the dirty south And them bitches' dime tight I got my mind right And my ice got the shine right And if it don't blind bitches When them lights hit the wrist? You won't be sticking shit You be lickin' this Repeat 1 [MJG] I'm the pimp motherfucker, baby Ice cold, stories so high I pimp the whole village twice So tight fold crease right on the president's nose Pimp clothes, drinkin straight Henney'and Buckstrum Touch toed, hoes take a centerfold pose Break a treat, make 'em pay to enter those Pros, slam those Game tied tight like bows, we never close Three-sixty-five, twenty-four Hand chose bithces a la mode, gettin' sold Plus a load of killer, as Chronic gettin' blowed Keep it froze, tucked up in a Tupperware bowl Stick of gold, somethin' from the school of the old Forever flows, I take it down as deep as it can go Burn rolls, braids tight, blazed afros We're pushin' hoes Dicks get erect like poles, pay the toll MJG is in control Repeat 1 [Juvenile] Peep dis', you and them boys need to slow down Up in the morning in the court, it's 'bout to go down There's no remorse now, better expose rounds Them jackets be on the lose until the dope is found Juvenile's my name, bitch I represent it to the end, the same shit Niggers don't be wearin suits on theses blocks All you see is your boys and reeboks A thin hat to the back with a strap too Willin' to bust a nigga ass if he had to If you feel the same my nigger, you's a hot boy Blocka, blocka, blocka Better get up off the block, boy Call for the cops, boy your mommy or pops, boy Cash wasn't a million, never hit the spot boy You want props ha, you sold to the cops ha You in a cell block ha, cuz you too hot ha Repeat 1 [MJG] Where the real ones at? Be-atch... Oh, you know how we feel About all you 'wanna be' ass ghetto super stars Wanna be like 'me ass' niggas Tryin' to be like Foxy Brown bitches I give a fuck about your intermureal status, motha fucka You ain't nobody We been doing this, been doin' this shit We go way back with this baby Talkin' about this real shit on the mutha fuckin' microphone Pimps and hoes and gettin' money Tricks and hoes and fuckin' Mutha fuckin' clothes and shit ridin' vogues and shit Nigga riding on 20's and shit Nigga what chu got? Brand new-assed nigga You don't know nothin' about this game Come on Repeat 1 until fade

3 Verses

EMINEM "The Eminem Show"
I'm the illest rapper to hold a cordless Patrolling corners Looking for hookers to punch in the mouth with a roll of quarters I'm meaner in action Than Rosco beating James Tarteenyer () And smackin his back with vacuum cleaner attachments I grew up in the wild hood As a hazardous youth With a fucked up childhood That I used as an excuse And aint shit changed But kept the same mindstate Since the third time that I failed 9th grade You probably think that I'm a negative person don't be so sure of it I don't promote violence I just encourage it I laugh at the sight of death As I fall down a cement flight of steps And land inside a bed of spider webs So throw caution to the wind You and a friend Can jump off of a bridge and if you live, do it again Shit, why not Blow your brain out I'm blowing mine out Fuck it, you only live once you might as well die now It's only fair to warn I was born with a set of horns And metaphors attached to my damn umbulical cord Warlord of rap little bastard with a two by four board That smashed into your Honda Accord With a 4 door Ford But a more toward () droppin an accapella The choppa () fella The mozarella Worse than a hellacopta propella Got you locked in the cella With your skeleton showing Developing anorexia While I'm standin next to ya Eating a full course meal watching you starve to death With an IV in your veins Feeding you liquid darvicet Pumping you full of drugs Pull the plugs On the gunshot victims full of bullet slugs Who were picked up in an ambulance And driven To receiving with the asses ripped outta they pants And given A less than 20 percent chance Of living Have a possible placement It's a hospital patient Storing the dead bodies in grandma's little basement Doctor Kevorkian has arrived To perform an autopsy on you while you scream 'I'M STILL ALIVE!' Driving a rusty scalpel in through the top of your scalp And pulling your adams apple out through your mouth Better call the fire department I've hired a arson To set fire to carpet And burn up your entire apartment I'm a liar to start shit () Got your bitch wrapped around my dick So tight you need a crobar to pry her apart wit Met a retarded kid named Greg with a wooden leg Snatched it off and beat him over the fucking head with the peg Go to bed with the keg wake up with the 40 Mixed up with Alka Seltzer and Formula 44D Fuck an acid tab I'll strap the whole sheet to my forehead Wait until it absorbed in and fell to the floor dead No more said case closed end of discussion I'm blowin up like spontaneous human combustion Leaving you in the aftermath of holocaust and traumas Cross the bombas () We blowin up your house killing your parents and coming back to get your foster mommas And I'm as good at keeping a promise as Nostradamus Cause I aint making no more threats I'm doing drivebys in tinted Corvettes on Vietnam war vets I'm more or less sick in the head Maybe more cause I smoked crack () today, yesterday, and the day before sabbath Walk the block with a labrador Strapit more corral for war than El Salvador Foul style galore Verbal cow manure Coming together like the eyebrow on Al B. Sure

Here We Go

Bouncing Souls
We were riding north to chicago on route 65 we'd played the first show on a tour of 45 limey Shawn and Bryan rode in the truck 16 miles away me Shal Pete and Lamar thumbed down the ramp of exit 158 the smell of farm and diesel fuel it burned in the 3:00 sun 16 miles to the garage with a bottle of water and our thumbs. Dead bottle caps buds and birds we passed on the way who's gonna pick up 4 punks in indiana on sunday here we go! the diagnosis wasn't good is what Don the ford guy said. Stuck in indiana for a week cuz the bus was dead. 24 hour white castle 25cent refills for a while we know what to do with no money riding down the jewel of the denial. Loaded with our sleeping bags we hitched a ride to town we ran into some punky kids bought some beers they showed us around under a bridge by the river we got drunk and sang clash songs we were saved just in time by the sonic iquana here we go!.

Afro Connections At A Hi 5 (In The Eyes Of The Hoodlum)

DE LA SOUL "De La Soul Is Dead"
POS: This is dedicated to all those hardcore acts. DOVE: Yeah, you know them brothers that we used to look up to, that fell the fuck off. MASE: And now they doing all that R'n'B sh..(crocker!) DOVE: You mean Rhthym and Blues? DE LA SOUL: No! Rappin' Bullsh... DOVE: Connection A, click, what? My dick, chick I smack a fish if you thinks My connection ain't thick, dick Headed like a punk whip I travel miles with a rhythmic lip I rock an Afro In '83, gee, yo And spray the sheen so I get a Soul Glow I play the corner tough And me and Mase pull puffs on a blunt MASE: Givin' high-five is what I want So I puff a blunt, I don't front I get spliffed, get a stiff Then I go hump a stunt Like a pimp pro (Nah, man, a super ho) That's cool 'cause I'm still an Afro bro Yeah, I'm live for my life is hectic Every hour, every minute, every second I keep a level head and stay down to earth 'Cause I've been an Afro since birth POS: Yeah Now I hold my crotch 'cause I'm top-notch I run amok Sasquatch, and I like to eat live crab I've got five beepers, you scab But you can find me directly on the Ave (You niggas cheat me, well who's that!) My breath never smells wack I eat the watermelon Tic-Tac Before I kiss myself I always jump back (Yo, gee, this track is stack) (And you know that) I do three flips When a punk flip on my duke lifts But I flex more strength when I'm asleep On the other side with his main tapes Make her dry her face, buy her gold earlocks But I may, she flocks round me like a donut She got sprinkles but I bite my way out More brothers come about, try to scheme slick But the Native Tongue's thick Lick 'em real good, like a real hood should But the fly tape let the car speakers shake I ran a cop down, I smile a frown with a but Show gold teeth, 'cause I ain't a vegetarian Not scared of beef, sport a feather like Chief Got a scribble pad, you can get these gonads 'Cause I'm big-willed, blow off like a seal 'Cause connection with the Afro is real DOVE: I be the gift of gab, but be a bro with a diss Because it's tough to bluff a cab No wonder Melle Mel is 'Rrrr-RAH!' I play of tape of the son of La-di-da My cousin Rilo sells blow, a G a day Keeps his kids hooray, a size nine and half I kicks my tricks, is to live for Island I mug a mug vic, but I's cool, I self With the quickness I bust the true slang Show no pit to those who don't understand MASE: The Maseo got tailed with the big bail I busted loose but now the blue goose is on my tail I seen the ghetto go lower than it is (He don't care, 'cause his nigga's selling crack to the kids) My jeans are brand new, with twelve more In the closet with my silk, and below My 45 pack thick, draw quick If a nigga starts some shibidibidit My crib is uptown, downtown, L.I. And another crib in Queens I munch some cornbread, Boar's Head My favorite porck chops and A plate of collar greens I chill with Shymel, Akeem, Jaheed And the Rastafarians'll be the crown in And the Poppa But the connections are still a high-five (Let's get busy)

Saturn Missiles

AESOP ROCK "Skelethon"
If you step on the lawn I keep the foot Peep, in the pot go 6 degrees of cooked geese Boiling, blitz the beach of mushed peas Over 10 meat hooks with a blister each I'm all pincher, fever-y hoodie on, hoodie off Sweat thru his E.T. sheets to the worry dolls Never met a quiet storm that didn't grow into a choir of colliding horns that go click click clack In territorial syntax Sitting on the porch with his lids pinned back Pinball wiz in a thimble of sims I'm a symbol of whimsy abridged Kiss me I'm dead, nursing a mystery Dayquil Led Zep staring daggers down page mill How pray tell do he sit pretty when the ol' 1 2 unglue in a tizzy Please hold for the don't play dull boy Click, I am not a page or a pull toy Came in the door and the floor is lava Killjoy if your core more Norman Rockwell Born home sick for an invisible address Bat shit, bumble and bat around catnip One black heart Katamari massive Packed in a fat category 5 rat nest Nose on his sleeve, holes in his inner peace Robot phone like a tentacle of flippancy Hate you, hate you more, no I hate you infinity And Pangaea break into smithereens Interlude prest-o change-o If it move to quick oh whey oh Right brain go white train Ramo Mustache any old Money, "no!" Merrily merrily merrily merrily In a cobweb tomb on a hotbed of heresy Frog men schooled by the god Ed Emberly Pull dog sleds and exhume Dead Kennedys Bet, moth into kerosene awful A caution to straw men lost on vaudeville A-morally mixing business with 144 dixie whistlers Lawn chair, strong man twisted whiskers NASCAR Bic in his missing fingers Outcast from a system of kiss-the-ring-ers Are you privy to the misadventures It's electric, meeting in the middle of the street With a lethally modified piccolo pete There is admittedly an incredible mystique To meddling in the reason a city won't sleep 48 strings of 12 That ring ring ring, whiz bang, jingle bells And melt bootleg G.I. Joes to black taffy, classic Fire in the hole backdrafting Fold wild life out of the wolf pack wrapping Full moon, bad knee, wool hat, caffeine TNT plunger in all caps ACME Blast off half the whole damn mapscreen No sling no spear I'm a patchwork of 86'd springs and gears Who been stung by an un-linked pinky swear During his what-in-the-fuck-was-I-thinking years Maybe an awkward phase Like his acne and sophomore fade Played, calling all out-of-work action figures It was death by saturn missiles.

Was it funny? Share it with friends!