Lyrics 85 Bucks An Hour - Twiztid, Insane Clown Posse

85 Bucks An Hour

Chillin' at the studio…
Chillin at the studio
85 bucks an hour
So hurry up and loop a beat Mike, come on!
Uh, Uh, Uh
I’m Violent J but my homies call me Shithead
But that’s my homies, to you I’m Violent J bitch
I put my boys on a track even though they suck
(Dave)
Yo dawg, I’m Dave and I don’t give a fuck
(Violent J)
I did a record deal, I signed a contract
Technically, for Island I can only rap
Well fuck that, with Twiztid I’mma still spit
Even though I got a cold and I sound like shit
What the fuck was that?
Fuck it, leave it in, that shit is phat
You heard this beat eighty times I’mma still freak it
And if you notice, my shit don’t even rhyme…
Look at that.
I ain’t even got a rap and it’s still phat
My shit went gold, I got fat knots
And you’re still flyer’in parking lots
You might say my vocals are up too loud
So I’mma turn 'em up louder to piss you off!
Psychopathic Records are geniuses, get off our penises
Here comes the chorus, but I got no hook
Instead I’ll just fuck with the phone book
(Music cuts. Phone rings, a guy picks up)
Hello?
(Slim Anus)
Yeah uh, Harry Sacks Please?
(Guy)
Who is this?
(Slim Anus)
Uh Harry, hey this is Slim Anus down at the cannery
Uh, Dick Shooter left a bulletin, something about, uh
You filling in his slot tonight down at the, uh, garage
We got a casement of fudge.
We need as many packers as we
Can get, uh uh Sacks
(Guy)
…Hello?
(Music Starts)
Uh Uh
(Jamie Maddrox)
My name is Jamie Maddrox and I got fat balls
I’m always urinating in the motel halls
I got a big head that never fits a hat
So you ain’t see me wearing a damn thing green bitch
I’m far from rich, I gotta hoopty
With a smash in the fender, and in the back too
I gotta a broken tail light and I’ll smash you
Bitch, get outta my way.
We got clown love
Fat props to the lyrical Tom Dub
(Monoxide Child)
It’s the M-O-N-O, and I can’t even spell the rest
It takes too long and I need a fuckin' cigarette
I can’t hear, my right ear’s mad wack
So shut the fuck up and listen or get an ass kickin'
I slap hoes and call them bitches to thier face
And scream «Now fuck off bitch, Twiztid in the place»
So back up, recognize and check nuts
Cause simply my dear, I don’t give a fuck!
(Music cuts. Phone rings, a guy picks up)
Psychopathic
(Mo' Styles)
Yo, this is Mo' Styles in this piece, what’s up son?
(Guy)
Hello?
(Mo' Styles)
Yeah, what’s up son?
I’m lookin' fo this deal
You know what I’m sayin'?
I
Got raps to bust fo y’all.
Y’all ready fo Mo' Styles?
I’m 'bout to kick this flow, y’all ready fo this shit or what?
(Guy)
Who’s this?
(Mo' Styles)
Word up son.
I’m Mo' Styles, I’m straight from the hood
I got all my peoples on 1−800 Crenshaw.
We comin' hard
(Music Starts)
Bring it, bring it, bring it
(Shaggy 2 Dope)
My names 2 Dope, and sometimes Shaggy
Sometimes Shags, and sometimes Gweedy
I get mad stupid, I gets mad ill
Locked down in all five, fuck it, I do this still
Stretch my nuts back like a slingshot and plant 'em in your mouth
Shake my hips like Elvis, wiggling my pelvis
Last kid that stepped
I applied a Camel Clutch and stretched his back like
Motherfuckin' bungee jump
WAAAAAAH!
(Music Cuts to Violent J)
I’m Violent J back to make you smile more
I let my nutsack drag on the tile floor
I kick free styles, for miles
My gold comes in piles, I worked on Belle Isle…
I picked up deer shit, and now I spit raps…
I snap your neck…
Cause my freestyles are fresh…
(Door Opens, closes)