Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Psypher '17 (Juggalo Love) , by - Insane Clown Posse. Release date: 28.12.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Psypher '17 (Juggalo Love) , by - Insane Clown Posse. Psypher '17 (Juggalo Love) |
| One fucking question: tell me, where my Juggalos at |
| This life is a blessing thank God that I chose rap |
| Wicked clowns in your town know that the shows packed |
| Down 'til I’m in the ground everybody knows that |
| Fill 'em when I get it so you better get the medic |
| I’m about to blow motherfuckers wig back — dig that |
| Breaking ya bones like a twig- crack |
| Put it in the box like a Big Mac run and tell the pigs that |
| I said «Fuck the police til I’m dead!» |
| At least I’m a beast in my head |
| I’m violent 'cause a riot, now bye Fed! |
| I’m all in you, fallin' and ballin' like west group |
| Really never had money, never got a checkbook |
| Stress took away 'cause I got it down dead rook |
| Know that I’m fresh loose, leavin' the rest shook |
| Higher and higher and this flow she die for |
| And I know this hydro that I blow is fire |
| Just like a pyro, so check out my bio |
| I’m horned like a rhino and women admire |
| Young lizzle, hotter than the sun sizzle |
| 'Bout to do my thug dizzle, 'bout to blow up like scud missle |
| Psychopathic hearthrob heart guy- I could make a tongue drizzle |
| Thats official. |
| Professional juggalo prolo |
| Fuck on my team, that’s a no-no |
| Respect that logo |
| This show, ho, what I stand fo' |
| Psychopathic Records my fam-o |
| Better watch, I’m about to eat ammo |
| Cause I am the Juggalo Rambo |
| Underground down, like a manhole |
| The mainstream cannot handle |
| I got shit for brains, I’m switching lanes |
| With the hatchet man sticker on that Lambo |
| Goin' HAM, bro, party 'til the bar closed |
| Car loads of hoes get swiped like barcodes |
| Bottle full of narcos up on the ceiling at Harpos |
| Only at our shows |
| I’m a rockstar slash monstar |
| I know I’m goin' fuckin' high star |
| I got a show to wreck, psychopathic soul to check |
| Your city I’ma bop hard |
| Then I stun a motherfucker, you ain’t even gotta wonder |
| I’mma hit you with that thunder, I’m Godzilla! |
| Fuck you, my squad reala |
| Deep past that mob killa |
| Voodoo, Clay, Shaggs, J, Lyte and that ninja Ouija |
| Its all over, never weepy |
| Say at the door when you see me |
| Fuck the TV, the radio, this only for a select few |
| The only way I’ll ever bury this hatchet is deep in your neck when I end you |
| Throw up your sign, blow up your nine |
| Paw, pap, click, pop! |
| Skull, cap, spit, slop! |
| Fall back, click, chop! |
| All that, slick, hot! |
| Draw, gat, kick, drop! |
| Jaw, jack, get shot! |
| Sword play and quick stomp! |
| It seems the demon lives deep inside of me |
| Crying, it’s dyin' to kill, kill, kill |
| Deep in my heart, it’s the oddity part |
| Please, slaughter me, I’m promising I’d oughta be killed |
| Throbbing, my arteries, always it startles me |
| Sure to bring murder and kill, kill, kill |
| Gotta be outta me, shock or lobotomy! |
| I can’t take this out of me, I wanna be killed |
| What’s Juggalo love if you’re not a Juggalo |
| And you got a lotta bullshit, a whole lotta ho shit |
| Nobody know that ya owe shit |
| On a whole lotta old shit, got a whole lot of bullshit |
| Kinda wanna throw shit, kinda wanna throat slit |
| Kinda wanna go get a four fifth and hold it |
| Load it, run up in sauna and explode it |
| Down the road into a Benihana and unload it |
| Oh shit, you so lit |
| Blow shit in half and laugh, they don’t know shit |
| Smoke shit, go kid, full clip |
| Wall of glass, you broke it, dope shit |
| Hocus pocus, need to focus |
| Though, don’t blow this please |
| Triggers squeezing, chokin' |
| On these enemies croaking, bleeding, soaking |
| Greedy wipe up, weedy tokin' |
| Screaming «heed the viper!» |
| In deep, preoccupied and hyper |
| Need it but fails, scope in a sniper |
| Who proceeded to open fire, BLAOW! |
| Now he need a diaper |
| We bleed for the fam, ain’t right for you |
| Psypher do |
| We fat chicks, hicks, black dicks, clits |
| Psychics, bikers, dykers, fags |
| Slackers, crackers, junkies, druggies |
| Thugs, scrubs, rubber necks and hags |
| Slugs, hackers, bums, lackers |
| Winners, sinners, tweekers, drag queens |
| Richies, bitches, geezers, kiddies |
| Jerks, experts, fats flirts and gypsies |
| With ADD, HIV, Hep C |
| Epilepsy, asthma, stress and zits |
| Arthritis, meningitis |
| Crones, herpes, scabies and bitch tits |
| We movers, shakers, plumbers, painters |
| Undertakers, pizza makers |
| Lumberjacks, nuns for crack |
| Some get slapped and stumble back! |
| But we real to each other, bust 'em up, bust 'em up |
| Slug 'em up, slug 'em up, buck 'em up, buck 'em up |
| And we die for each other, gag 'em up, gag 'em up |
| Slug 'em up, slug 'em up, bag 'em up, bag 'em up |
| Ride 'em out, ride 'em out, take 'em out, take 'em out |
| Drag 'em out, drag 'em out, break it out, break it out |
| Chop it up, chop it up, risk stacks |
| Lop it up, drop it in fish snacks |
| My flows paint a portrait |
| Vividly, heaven’s gate |
| My homeboys is insane |
| Literally Leather Face |
| I spit pure cocaine |
| Let it mentally resonate |
| It starts to sink in |
| Watch you physically levitate |
| Juggalo love and it’s universal |
| My style’s authentic and my words are hurtful |
| Truth when I give it, no gimmick, raw with it |
| All in it, y’all get it real fucking with the famo |
| Kush, cocaine, and gang load of ammo |
| Is all I keep on me, please don’t sleep on me |
| Underground overlord, combat is my sport |
| Front line in a war, they ain’t really ready for it |
| I’m rolling deep with fam |
| Loadin' up the yeapa |
| Niggas curl up when the Reaper comes |
| Start yellin' like Chewbacca |
| Hoodoo suited up and dressed to kill |
| I ain’t nothing but a mobster |
| I go hard for the Juggalo nation |
| Spit in a face if anybody wanna say somethin' otherwise |
| Ride high when I fly by with my guys |
| All to so hell 'boutta break loose |
| Show you how to make moves like a double O G |
| From the hood, low key |
| Everybody know me I’ve been getting my grind on |
| Detroit had my back way before I signed on |
| I’ve got the whole city down ready to ride on |
| With Juggalo love everybody can vibe on (Vibe on) |
| It’s Juggalo love 'cause that shit lasts |
| Every other love was shut off |
| Disagree? |
| Fuck your bitch ass |
| You can fuck the fucking fuck the fuck off |
| You lick balls and your kid’s soft |
| I’ll sock your whole head bald, wig off |
| Rock your lid off, get hip tossed |
| Get lost and get kicked in your lip gloss |
| I ticked off a hick named Hoss that I ripped off |
| My bitch-made boss to the quick wash |
| The dick payed raw, so I lipped off |
| Switchblade to his jaw, made his shit fall |
| Quick, I dipped in his whip and zipped off |
| I kick balls and slit pussy lip walls |
| You told me to get lost, 'cause I get sauce |
| And fucked this girl in the butt 'til my dick soft |
| She like dick sauce, her clit’s soft, man |
| So she get tossed, then shit can |
| Tried to beat it up and lost, the chick boss |
| Left in my drawers backwards, criss cross |
| (Jump!) Get the wig wash, to a stick gloss |
| Dope, black, fat, Rick Ross |
| My shit, big costs |
| So cold my shit frosts |
| Straight to the chop chop, nope, never got pop |
| Juggalo love, move anything you got, hot |
| My brother we down, he’d clown |
| Always gonna be around, D town beat down |
| Juggalo love any time you hear the beat pound |
| Everyday we put our feet down to the street sound |
| From Guantanamo Bay to Greek town |
| It’s Juggalo love, but I won’t turn your freak down |
| «And now, ladies and gentlemen, from the label that runs beneath the streets, |
| we present to you, the latest and greatest hatchet man, from the trash fires |
| of Detroit, Murderous, by way of Sin City, Las Vegas, Ouija» |
| Ay, hold up |
| Coming up in the bitch swangin' |
| Leaving ya fucking head rangin' |
| Hey wait, Hatchet man hangin' |
| All on my necc and that motherfuccer blangin' |
| Pull up or shut the fucc up 'cause you know that you busters ain’t finna do |
| nothing |
| Couple of holes in your face and I’m lighting your fuckin' ass up like a pumpkin |
| Technically, that is a vegetable, now you are no longer able to function |
| Kicking that baby spit I wonder who dick you been sucking |
| Thinking it’s gravy bitch I got that biscuit and I’m dumping (Boom) |
| Bunch of killers in the function |
| Pile of haters in the dungeon |
| Holy shit we 'bout to crush em' |
| You fucking stupid if you thought we wasn’t |
| Lyte with me bout to rush em' |
| Kill em' all end of discussion |
| Suckers claiming what they ain’t |
| Leave em' dripping like some paint |
| I ain’t even gotta rap |
| I was waiting for the shank |
| Taking wicked shit back |
| Y’all been making that shit fake |
| Sneak dissing little bitches |
| We ain’t nibblin' the bait |
| Pop off and get knocked off ya nose chopped off of yo face |
| Hop off in that moth coffin, your broad offer me brace |
| Who in the fuck did you thought it was |
| Living the bottom of every murderer |
| Ouija the goblin the demon the gurgler |
| Thought they were burglar they never heard of her |
| Creature like me I’m unheard of |
| Jump on a track like a hurdler |
| Foreign bitch in a chopper |
| Sin city baby burn it up |
| They found a third of the bitch that I killed in the woods |
| But they never discovered the cabin |
| I got your bitch in the cabin |
| She off a bean and she laughing |
| Next day you blowing my phone up |
| Asking me what the fucc happened |
| Sorry fell off of the wagon |
| Right into the medicine cabinet |
| Comet with a come up bullshit but I’m crushing every fuckin' thing in front of |
| me |
| My moment has arrived |
| Duck and I slide |
| Juggalo love on my side |
| That shit ain’t ever gon' die |
| Run up on me and my posse we gon' see |
| What’s poppin' when I let my chopper decide |
| Bullets collide |
| Crumble your skeleton, blood into gelatin |
| Who wanna die |
| Better hope all y’all hear this shit |
| Ouija Macc came here to peel this shit |
| Never been shot but I drilled this shit |
| Zipped the body bag up when I kill this shit |
| For the knockoff brand trying to steal that shit |
| For the mainstream trying to conceal that shit |
| Frontin' on me you a stale ass bitch |
| You gonna ask yourself why you did that shit |
| No implants this some real ass shit |
| The whole gang in the game bout to spill this shit |
| People in the back won’t miss this shit |
| Like the blind do braille you can feel this shit |
| Sure need some barbed-wire to rip this shit |
| Fatality mode let me finish it |
| Never forget who the family is |
| And the place you discovered the wicked shit |
| I just wanna celebrate ('Cause Juggalos don’t die!) |
| I just wanna celebrate (Cause we seventeenin'!) |
| I just wanna celebrate ('Cause Juggalos don’t die!) |
| I just wanna celebrate (Yeah, motherfucker!) |
| Ay, ay, you bitter, we glitter |
| Quit pressin' albums up, you shouldn’t litter |
| Yeah, straight wicked shit spitters |
| Juggalo for life, no quitters |
| Name | Year |
|---|---|
| Haunted Bumps | 2007 |
| Boogie Woogie Wu | 2006 |
| Great Milenko | 2006 |
| In My Room | 2004 |
| Hokus Pokus | 2006 |
| Cuss Words ft. Ouija Macc | 2018 |
| Listen ft. Big Hoodoo | 2015 |
| Bitch Betta Have My Money ft. Insane Clown Posse | 2015 |
| My Axe | 2006 |
| Imma Kill You | 2009 |
| Against the Grain ft. ICP | 2020 |
| No Sleep | 2017 |
| Halls Of Illusions | 2006 |
| Jump Around | 2015 |
| Eclipse ft. Ouija Macc | 2017 |
| Hungry ft. Big Hoodoo | 2019 |
| The Blasta | 2015 |
| Love | 2009 |
| Play With Me | 1999 |
| Piggy Pie (Old School) | 2006 |
Lyrics of the artist's songs: Insane Clown Posse
Lyrics of the artist's songs: Big Hoodoo
Lyrics of the artist's songs: Ouija Macc