Psychopathic Lyrics

The ghettos of America are breeding grounds 
For the criminal minded 
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 its 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 Chewbacca 
Might 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, 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'm a send her ass home with a foot print on her face 
Uh, I'm hating sluts 
Shoot them in the face, steb 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 know bitch 
The ICP is made up of psychotic 
Demented psycho clumsy motherfuckers 
And we'll put a hook on your bumb 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.. 
Aah, 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 Detriot is comended one's home 
So you might see me at a festival 
Cussin', rude, and scratching my testicles 
With a cold two-liter 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 
(theme from "Halloween") 
Yeah, I've always been a psycho 
Psycho-psycho-sick-psycho-sick-psycho-psycho 
I'll throw rocks at stray dogs 
Build crackhouses out of Lincoln logs 
I cut class, said I was a faker 
You was in school, I was home watching Green Acres 
Now I'm all up in your face 
You can barely hear the rap with all that bass 
I'm running with a southwest street gang 
And I never let my southwest meat hang 
Cuz you know what ICP's all about 
Take a brick off the street 
And bust you in the mouth 
Find the girl's daddy's rich 
And his sweet little angel's my sewer freak bitch 
But I filled the turkey up with the stuffing 
Like Billy Bill say, "a bitch ain't nothing" 
Grab her by the arm and break 
Grab her by the life and take it 
And, ya know, the sight'll make ya sick 
Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic 
Psychopathic