Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pumpkin Carver, artist - Insane Clown Posse.
Date of issue: 23.06.1997
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Pumpkin Carver |
Hey, money got a big ass head |
Fool look like a, like a stop sign |
Fuck dog, ey, we gotta go get that motherfuckin' ball of brains |
You know what I’m sayin', fuck that, yeah |
What, you wanna make a song about death |
Squeezing on a neck until it’s all outta breath |
You wanna hear me rap about being the hardest |
Well fuck that, from now on I’m an artist |
I carve pumpkins, chop, chewy |
Slice, swing twice, stab, screwy, ooh-ee |
Chewy, dooey, gooey, slop |
It all starts with a quick chop, drop |
Pumpkin rolls on the floor |
Almost out the front door, oh, we can’t have that |
Cut along the hairline, bowl cut |
Hold the pumpkin between your legs and lift up |
Boing, brains, snippity snip all the veins |
Snip, cut, what, what the matter, you don’t wanna do it |
Well fuck it then, screw it, you’ll never be a pumpkin carver |
Pumpkin carvers that be the hobby |
So Cal, Motown, collecting bodies |
Twiztid, Clowns and the Kottonmouth Kings |
Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, Halloween |
Pumpkin carvers that be the hobby |
So Cal, Motown, collecting bodies |
Twiztid, Clowns and the Kottonmouth Kings |
Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, Halloween |
What, you don’t like this rhyme |
I can’t be on point all the time |
Fuck, it’s Halloween, I gotta make a living somehow |
I’m a professional pumpkin sculptor, alright motherfucker |
Now, first, hollow the container |
Scrape that bitch with a hanger |
Whatever just get something, just get the motherfucker all hollowed out |
Like you could fill it up with lemonade and pour it out the mouth if you wanted |
to |
Never leave the eyes intact |
They’ll turn all blue and puff out and shit, wack |
Always remove 'em but keep 'em handy |
Cause they taste like candy |
Psych, I’m only playing, okay now, get the scalpel |
Slowly cut around the mouth, be careful |
What the fuck! |
We needed the lip! |
Here, let me give you a little tip, slow the fuck down! |
Pumpkin carvers that be the hobby |
So Cal, Motown, collecting bodies |
Twiztid, Clowns and the Kottonmouth Kings |
Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, Halloween |
Pumpkin carvers that be the hobby |
So Cal, Motown, collecting bodies |
Twiztid, Clowns and the Kottonmouth Kings |
Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, Halloween |
Take a closer look you scary motherfuckers |
Don’t my jack-o-lantern look like your little brother |
Neck nuggets start to fling, terror’s what we bring |
Twiztid, ICP and the Kottonmouth Kings |
Pumpkins are for bitches, I like my shit instead |
Cause every devil’s night we carving somebody else’s head |
When my meatcleaver chops, heads fall to the floor |
Fuck buying pumpkins at the grocery store |
Yeah, yeah alright, you done flexed some skills on the mic |
This is my motherfuckin' little song here, right |
Right, let’s get back to the subject |
Now hold steady, steady, steady, ready |
Insert the blade along the outer eyelid |
Very, slowly, I don’t wanna look! |
Ah, you did |
Okay, gently count twenty-five specmetre outer diameters, huh? |
A square! |
I know it’s hard, you’d probably rather just stab and chop |
But you’ll end up with a pile of slop |
I’ve done it before, and them ain’t, them ain’t pumpkin seeds |
Those are fragments of skull, oh, crunchy |
Hey, never mind that, get back to work |
Eating on the fuckin' job, you’ll never be an expert |
What you wanna be, a mailman, a plumber or a barber, no |
Or do you wanna be like your uncle Violent J, a pumpkin carver |
Pumpkin carvers that be the hobby |
So Cal, Motown, collecting bodies |
Twiztid, Clowns and the Kottonmouth Kings |
Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, Halloween |
Pumpkin carvers that be the hobby |
So Cal, Motown, collecting bodies |
Twiztid, Clowns and the Kottonmouth Kings |
Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, Halloween |
Make these motherfuckers sing fool |
Kick 'em to the spleen, happy Halloween |
I be burnin' Cali, southern voters always bring |
Pletto from the ghetto dumping bodies in the meadow |
When it comes to carvin', bitch, I’m sharper than Gepetto |
I’m lovin' that stiletto, ask your trick or fuckin' treaters |
More than thirty, why I beat and greet the homies with the Chiba |
Ariba, I was born in this October |
Now come press rewind, motherfuckin' flow’s over, over, over |