| Smoke a square and then prepare yourself
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| Monoxide, Monox-boogie, Mo-Diddy, Mo-Something
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| Smoke something, smoke a square, smoke a square bitch
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| Me and Violent, Me and Violent J
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| I’m the wickedest of wicked and by far
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| I’m destined for greatness
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| Killing off you people hate this
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| Now you can raise us in the top notch
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| Mag or book
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| And we still won’t give you fags a look
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| Bitch boy, I’m gay-bashing
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| Come see my gun
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| I never hated fags till I got sued by one (by one)
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| My mental picture is painting me something ugly
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| And I still don’t understand how my hands got all bloody
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| It’s the Juggla!
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| A juggalo role-model
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| I stab people in the neck with a broken beer bottle
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| And then you meet me and expect a nice guy
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| You’re lucky I ain’t stuck a screw driver in your eye yet (hound dogs)
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| When I sign an autograph, I see you chopped up in my tub, soaking in a blood
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| bath
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| With demons pissing on you like ROCK THE DEAD! |
| (thoughts in my head)
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| I’m getting glued the fuck out with my homie fucking Violent J
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| And we don’t give a fuck about nothing you fucking bitches say
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| We speak the word and he unheard the mystify
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| And when you see us, hug your momma and give her a kiss goodbye
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| It’s a long dark ride, where you going there ain’t no holding back
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| I’m the reaper in this bitch, there ain’t no coming back
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| My tongue in fact conceal a casket
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| And spit some shit, so off the rip, it’s a classic
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| Shut the fuck up, when we speaking bitch
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| Ain’t yo mamma ever taught you shit
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| We stab individuals in they fatal spots
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| You got nine lives? |
| Well I got 10 shots (yeah!)
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| I remember when we first got started
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| Clown paint and faygo, you thought we was retarded (whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!)
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| Finally got you in the front row wilin
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| Now I’m gonna do it again with Zug Izland
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| I’m a axe holder, user, deep throater
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| Wouldn’t know a juggalo if I showed ya shadowless
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| My reflection still casts a demon with green eyes behind stained glass
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| I see spirits and I talk to people that ain’t there
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| They seem to vanish in thin air
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| Why don’t you get ghost homie, raise up
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| While me and Violent J roll the weed and blaze it up (what?)
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| Real ass juggalos is all I care about (who?)
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| Fuck everybody else, and I don’t want to hear about
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| And I don’t give a fuck if you know someone that’s down
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| I’ll grab you by your neck and fling your fucking head around
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| I won’t sign nothing
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| Fuck taking a picture
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| Fuck shaking your hand, I’ll pull you at me and hit you (plaw!)
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| Then I kick ya fucking guts in until your ribs break
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| There’s your mutha fucking hand shake, bitch (bitch, bitch, bitch) |