Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 8 Ways to Die, artist - Insane Clown Posse.
Date of issue: 28.03.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
8 Ways to Die |
Four in the morning, lightning crackin', rain is pouring yet |
I’m still up doing lines of no-doze like my life’s important, man |
I don’t mean shit to nobody, especially you |
Never scared to pull something out of my waist, give you a taste of this (Boom) |
Lay you flat dirty rat in fact you ain’t coming back (Nope) |
Better have that shit sewed up with God before you hear that clap |
Bring it back where my stacks? |
What you thinking fool? |
S dub D 'til I D-I-E, A-S-S down in the blood pool |
'Cause your nightmares, they my wet dreams |
Fucking with my team I wish you would you b-string we supreme |
Premo, woo! |
T-R-O-Y |
Reminisce over your bitch ass and don’t nobody even cry (Nope) |
It’s no surprise don’t nobody even ask why |
It’s no surprise we glad to see you die, bitch |
Hit that fifth and chug |
Skin full of the meth bugs |
So who do you love? |
You know I got the plug bitch |
I’m a dope dealer and I’m from Dade county |
I got kilos of cocaine I keep them shits around me |
I got lots of haters, I’m always counting paper |
My shoes are made from an alligator |
I don’t sell no re-rock, I don’t rock no g-shock |
I get money lil nigga thug life like I’m 2Pac |
What do you want? |
I got it all |
I got a lil shawty and she wanna ball |
She want a dope dealer, you can fuck with me (Yeah, yeah) |
You can fuck with me (Yeah, yeah) |
You can fuck with me (Ha ha ha ha ha) |
You can fuck with me (Uh) |
You can fuck with me |
I put the dope in the pot (For real) |
I can run up in your spot (Yuh) |
All that tough talkin' you be doin' gon' get hit you up with the Glock |
Name another rapper that has sold more dope than me |
The only way that I’ma stop is if they come and murder me |
Coming to like a wicked preacher in the pulpit |
Eight ways to die, kill a ninja with the full |
All that stuff you rapping be bull-bull-bullshit |
Rappers get killed for being wack, you can’t fuck with my clique |
Psycho cyphers Micheal Myers set your body on fire |
Let the air out your head like a flat tire |
Are you in good hands, better call State Farm |
It’s getting hot up in this bitch ring the fire alarm |
I’m gone, I’m thugged out, I was raised in a drug house |
I come through like Raid on these roaches, they bug out |
Your girlfriend getting dug out, it’s blood on the rug now |
I’m turning your power off pulling your plug out |
Next rapper say yeah I’ma shoot him yeah |
Is his ass dead? |
Yeah! |
Hit him in his head! |
I’m a fucking psycho, homie, I’m a clown |
I never get it twisted in Mo-Town |
I come down from the heavens and I’m best friends with Jesus |
I be the fallen angel and I wrote Kkkill the Fetus |
I spit this wicked shit for all these heathens cause they heinous |
But still it’s hell on earth I got three stripes on my Adidas |
Eight ways to die, bruh, I’m an eight legged spider |
I walk up with an AK and light up your concert |
Just killing anyone that’s happy you alive |
If you survive in a suit and tie you getting crucified |
With a nail gun |
Motherfucker, my dick’s so big that it look like a whale tongue |
Mac-11 Lethal dropping microphones up in it |
It’s the middle of the map its Kansas City that I hail from |
Everybody fuck with me I rip so nice and fast kid |
If you ever fuck with me I dip your wife in acid |
I’m with that dark juggalo clique |
The Incredible Hulk on some Mark Ruffalo shit |
I got a big hard buffalo dick |
I might start humping your chick |
I’m a motherfucking lunatic I pull the skeleton up out your mouth |
Just like bunch of elephants up in a stampede |
Sticking a fucking blade up in your lung and you can’t breathe |
Bring them raccs out |
Succa brain bout to get splat now |
Bring that map out, I’ma put my city on the map now |
Sin City on blacc out |
Extension cords in that trap house |
We done made our own power lines turned the bando to a cat house (Meow, meow) |
Talk that shit down |
«Ouija got a chicc with a dicc now» |
Say what?!? |
30 round clip now just enough for you to get dicced down |
How bout that now? |
17 tat now |
17 raccs now |
Shawty ass clap like a pacced crowd |
Let them talk that shit, won’t walk that shit I bust them in they shit |
I pull up on him, Kid don’t want it but you finally got some drip |
You can wait to hit the lottery I’m bout to hit a licc |
You can wait on your retirement, I’m bout to break a bitch |
Hol up' wait all my hoes exfoliate |
All you broke mothafuccers you can still afford to hate |
What’s that beefin' to a vegan I stacc broccoli on my plate |
I can be stepping on all over these rapper neccs with every mo’fuccin' step |
that I take |
Ouija |
MAFIA! |
DJ PAUL! |
Hunnit off in a clip |
Ima push |
Double barrel, double R on the grill |
Diamond fangs in a grip |
Johnny Dang got the drip |
Smoke a quarter word to Elon, more notorious than B-I-G |
Was strappin' 'fore I had a gun ID |
Rubber bands on a hunnit grand layin' on my hand like I’m T.I.P |
Nigga this is just a PSA |
I’m dropping bones like I’m DTP |
Pass the weed like a box of yay |
Niggas copy but I do get paid |
Surf’s up tryna ride this wave |
I got pocket rockets and some knotted wallets keep the molly in a Gucci safe |
20 bitches on a 20 gauge |
20 haters that’s 20 graves |
Beat the case like MMA |
Run the club like some |
to this silence |
I’m colorblind 'til I get violent |
Run your mouth you got some mileage |
Feature my work to O’Reilly’s nigga |
Take me out the worst way |
Apocalypse on my birthday |
When you starving you eat shit til' I piss on all the thirsty |
For your applause my mental problem out for revenge every autumn |
Stimulate to get down them all innovators fend 'em off |
And lock me up nightly go psycho when you don’t like me |
What’s in my hands? |
Ain’t my ID |
At gunpoint make you recite me |
I see some demons that might be trying to fuck me or fight me |
Because I wasn’t wrapped tightly at Heaven’s Gate in black Nikes |
I’m in that house like a home invasion because your family need a renovation |
Say ho don’t say Amen say 6−7-8−9 Satan |
I’m a trapped ghost in a iPod and the batteries have been died off |
Evil in me no antidote it’s boring shooting cantaloupe |
And I’m about what killers do so much they start to kill in school |
The heroes lame, the villains cool |
Death is here I’m feeling cruel |
Burnt flesh that’s brand loyal |
Bullet holes your guts boil |
King of nothing, Fuck royal |
There will be blood, I struck oil |
What I’m Freddy Kruger, Lex Luthor, Chad Kroeger |
The dick in Nickleback who tickle fat nipples on cougars |
Sippin' Boocha, your boo fuck with me |
'Cause I’m super fly, I splash her neden Jimmy Snuka |
I’ll slap you, spin your face 'round to the back of your head |
You’ll have to chop a hole through your wig or suffocate dead |
I’ll make the sunshine bright at midnight or black out at noon |
Put so much heart in this every beat kicks as a sonic boom |
I blow hurricanes, spit monsoons and stomp earthquakes |
And me and my Ruby known to bust and murder snakes |
I’ll snatch right up in your earhole put your brain in your hand |
You’ll still be trying to comprehend when you end (Dang man) |
The hatchet been chopping for years |
I’ll flex on all of my peers |
So high I be poppin' your ears |
You rockin' a toilet career |
You bust to a brush in a mirror |
You flush and your fans disappear |
Your stacks are like flat as a beer |
Left out in the sun for a year |
Trained in Shaolin, red moon howlin' |
Decades deep, stomach still growlin' |
Elbow to eyeball I’m foulin' |
'Til your momma threw the towel in |
But I caught it, she fought it and brought it, I applauded |
But my rocket kick out it clocked out I sock it and she bought it |
With that shing-shing-shing-shing walla-walla bing bing |
True ninjutsu Joe Bruce ying yang |
Six Six Fivin' big dicks diving |
Up in you bitch it’s a ICP thing |
ICP THANG |
ICP THANG |
ICP THANG |
ICP THANG ICP THANG |