| I choke you… nah, hold up
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| Aight, listen… Fucking go
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| I stab you with an umbrella, and then open it
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| No!
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| 'Cause I’m sick like a diseased Ethiopian
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| That shit’s wack… aight, fuck that… aight, hold up… aight, c’mon…
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| Wait a second, listen!
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| I’ll peel your cap back with a cannonball
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| I buck 'em all
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| Fuck 'em all
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| We standing tall
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| Three 6 Mafia, Insane Clown Posse and Twiztid
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| We used to--we used to--
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| We used to rob for them petty things
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| Like a gold chain
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| Or a motherfuckin' pinky ring
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| Now it’s cocaine
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| If you see me on the dope train
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| I’m the dope man
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| Cigarettes in my right hand
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| Ready to make a stang
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| Old folks scared of eye gain
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| Out the window pane
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| They be looking with a migraine
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| While I catch a drain
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| And you know it’s a fucking shame
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| When you in this game
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| Trying to sell to a sprung lane
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| I control your brain
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| To my niggas, bust Glocks, fuck wit' us, bitch see
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| It’s the buckest of the four, bust a trick, make em' bleed
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| Through his neck, through his back, nigga, cover them hoes
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| Ain’t nuttin' else gon' be workin' when you twirkin' wit' some pros
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| Automatic with the carrier
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| Silence on the barrier
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| Hang them in the closet, kidnap the treasurer
|
| Bandanas on our face, wildin' out like some cowboys
|
| Ho, we need the keys and I’m talking like, now boy!
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| We be just another crazy clique, doing whatever to get us by
|
| When we pumped up, you out of luck, bitch, I ain’t gon' lie
|
| Put your guards up, show them who really running the streets with them Calicos
|
| I’m causing shit with ya, can’t come close
|
| We be just another crazy clique, doing whatever to get us by
|
| When we pumped up, you out of luck, bitch, I ain’t gonna lie
|
| Put your guards up, show em' who really runnin' the streets with them Calicos
|
| I’m causing shit with ya, can’t come close
|
| We the clique that don’t play
|
| Quick to rip your head off and hand it to Violent J
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| And bury it away
|
| I’m on the spree
|
| Killing for free
|
| Without a conscience
|
| Bitches, we on a mission to bomb shit
|
| Twiztid, ICP, with the Triple Six clique
|
| Hoes that pop lip
|
| Can eat a dick
|
| Or get your neck slit
|
| I’m having these memory lapses
|
| Of bodies off in the caskets
|
| With no heads
|
| Monoxide, ruler of the dead
|
| We 50-deep on the lawn
|
| With the Psychopathic leathers on
|
| You say it’s on
|
| So come bring it on
|
| We getting crunk at your funerals
|
| Treat us like we criminals
|
| We Juggalo individuals
|
| We just another crazy clique
|
| ICP, Twiztid, Triple Six
|
| All up in this bitch
|
| And we running shit
|
| We doin' driveby’s on all y’all with chainsaws
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| Pure uncut, redefining rugged and raw
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| Just another crazy clique to fuck around and bury ya
|
| Taking care of ya
|
| We scarier
|
| Than malaria
|
| I walk around your neighborhood like Frankenstein
|
| Choking anybody I find
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| I’m taking mine
|
| You mothafuckas can’t get near it
|
| Cause you fear it
|
| Look at my glass eye, I’m sick like Lou Gehrig
|
| I don’t know judo, but I go KEE-YA!
|
| Fuck you up so bad, a wheelchair couldn’t see ya
|
| Listen… (POP)
|
| Ya hear that, slut?
|
| That was me… pulling this dick out ya butt
|
| I’m a juggalo serial killa, steady screaming, «fuck y’all!»
|
| I stab bitches with a chainsaw
|
| We walk around Compton and Watts beatin' scrubs up
|
| And right in Tim Dog’s face we throw the dubs up
|
| We tearing clubs up, down south from the D
|
| Three Six y’all, Twiztid, and ICP |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Just Another Crazy Click, artist - Insane Clown Posse. Album song Forgotten Freshness Vol. 3, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп