shittalkaz lyrics – blaze ya dead homie

f/ insane clown posse, twiztid

* send corrections to the typist

(jamie madrox talking)
yo this is serious sh*t right here
me and my boys, we don’t f*ck around
you know what i’m sayin’?
so if you diss me, my m*th* f*ckin’ people, or the n*gg*s i roll with
you know what?
y’all done f*cked up
here go the sh*ttalkin’

(monoxide child)
you’s a b*tch *ss hoe
what you really know about killas for real though?
stainin’ my freek show, gang of lunatics
we the rebels for the dead
f*ckin’ with us you’ll lose your m*th* f*ckin’ head
and now ya talkin’ to your b*tch *ss hoes even a little
rather beat ya to sh*t, and pull the plug at the hospital
callin’ me this, callin’ me that
cause you’s a b*tch *ss n*gg* from the jump i wanna slap
with the old school beat down, 10 on 1
i don’t remember no fair fights where i’m from
maniac and i’ma stand right where the bloodstain is at
hopin’ you come back, n*gg* f*ck that
i’m the poster child of death
i’ma keep swingin’ my axe till nuthin’s left
i ain’t havin’ that so f*ck you b*tch
tell your friends i’ma hater and i’m talkin’ sh*t

(blaze ya dead homie)
man i don’t give a f*ck how many records you sell
stories you tell, n*gg* check yourself
and f*ck that b*tch that you’re with too
when the sh*t go down, where the f*ck your crew?
probably at home b*mpin’ someone else
when the sh*t went down they told you f*ck yourself
now you cryin’ inside little thug still frontin’
thinkin’ to yourself why the f*ck you say something
too many n*gg*s wanna beat me up
steal my sh*t, slap my b*tch
i’m like f*ck this
now you know what it’s like
to deal with real killas that don’t play, everyday
knockin’ suckas out the box, who wanna get some?
seven video channels for my victims
i ain’t havin’ that f*ck you b*tch
tell your friends i’ma hater and i’m talkin’ sh*t

(jamie madrox)
we the things that go b*mp in the night
we ain’t got no love for you, you need to get some sh*t right
b*tch who you think you’re f*ckin’ with?
we keep this sh*t like a track meet, we be runnin’ it
with the hatchet on the back
while other b*tches suckin’ sour t*ts for air time and similac
we say f*ck that, matter of fact
you tainted our style b*tch boy we want our sh*t back
don’t get your head cracked you ain’t tough
and all them skills don’t mean sh*t when you get f*cked up
so f*ck your set, and f*ck your crew
and f*ck every m*th* f*cka around that down with you
and you ain’t puttin’ nothin on the map
except for all this bullsh*t commercialized mainstream rap
and i ain’t havin’ that f*ck you b*tch
tell your friends i’ma hater and i’m talkin’ sh*t

(shaggy 2 dope)
hoe *ss hoes, we stomp those hoes
how the f*ck you gonna step to dark carnival juggalos?
creators of the wicked, night breeders
no little b*tch f*ggots with blonde?
so anytime you see me in public
you get a faygo in your *ss, and a jaw full of d*ck
you can keep your m*th*f*ckin’ trl
i stay with my army in the underground and stay real
and burn down your little tv set
string carson up with razor wire wrapped around his neck
cause that’s how we do all day
cross to the other side, b*tch you couldnt pay me
we stay on the dark side of the carnival grounds
twiztid, blaze and two wicked clowns
heads are finna get chopped off, and slit
bout to take it way beyond talkin’ sh*t

(violent j)
hatchet don’t count, hatchet ain’t included
knowin’ godd*mn well we the champs undisputed
we don’t need your radios and mtv
sellin’ million, sayin’ what the f*ck we please
? who’s coat you ridin’ on?
you gotta lick b*lls, and write him a song
you got his d*ck buried so far up your *ss
it’s hangin’ out your mouth, but you like that
and? tried to warn ya
and there you are receiving the d*ck in california
while you gettin’ f*cked on the west coast
i’m at home f*ckin’ kim?
f*ck all you f*ggot *ss sell out hoes
and f*ck anybody denying the juggalos
come to the underground and get bit
tell your boys i’ma hater and i’m talkin’ h*lly sh*t!

/ blaze ya dead homie lyrics