Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Psypher '17 (Juggalo Love), artist - Insane Clown Posse.
Date of issue: 28.12.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
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 |