As for years, they have killed one another of And America has enjoyed its creation But now these ghetto minded criminals Have crossed the line into your neighborhood And will soon give you a taste of the hell That they have lived for so long So pops, this time it's your son gets shot Deal with your own creation Well, I've been to the storm house and then some Payed me dues, but I'm still a street hoodlum Dropped out of school, 'cuz I couldn't find my locker Stubbles on my chin, I got hair like ChewbaccaMight see me sleeping on the street Don't look for a job, 'cuz there's no jobs looking for me Then it all went to my head Next thing, forty nine motherfuckers dead Tell the pigs, I did it, place spot at your back And beat you in the head with it And keep your bitch in place Or I'ma send her ass home with a foot print on her face I'm hating sluts, shoot them in the face Step back and itch my nuts, 'less I'm in the sac' Cuz I fuck so hard, it'll break they back All the pressure's packed into one nut I was waiting on a bus and my head blew up And the sight'll make ya sick Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic, psychopathic Thought you knew it bitch The ICP is made up of psychotic Demented psycho clumsy motherfuckers And when we'll put a hook on your dumb leg Like it ain't nobody's business So, I'm standing by the train tracks Then you see me running but naked with a battle axe I'm swinging and slicing and chopping and cutting and Ah, until I'm nothing Seems like I always get beat down Like the hawk turned to the wicked clown Tail turned out to the ghetto 'cuz Southwest Detroit is commended one's home So you might see me at a festival Cussin', rude and scratching my testicles With a cold two litre in hand Rapping to the bitch at the French fry stand Take it to the Patent Park Then I'll make a sexist remark' Cuz they're all eventually bitching Serve me fucking take your ass to the kitchen Police don't like me, it's obvious Just don't look in the trunk Or the sight'll make you sick Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic