Paroles de 85 bucks an hour

Insane Clown Posse

pochette album 85 bucks an hour
Voir sur Itunes

Date de parution : 18/08/1998

Durée : 0:03:18

Style : Rock

sonnerie téléphone portable pour 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

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
"yo dawg, i'm dave, i don't give a fuck"
I did a record deal, i signed a contract
Technically for island i can only rap
But fuck that, with twiztid i'ma 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 was phat

You heard this beat 80 times and i'ma 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 flyering parking lots
You might say my vocals are up too loud
So i'mma turn 'em up louder and i'll piss you off
Psychopathic records are geniuses, get off on penises
Here comes the chorus, but i got no hook
Instead i'll just fuck with the phonebook

Yeah, uh harry sacks please?
Who is this?
Uh, harry, hey, this is slim anus down at the cannery uh
Dick shooter left a bulletin, something about uh
Tou filling in his slot tonight down at the uh garage
We got a casement of fudge, we need as many packers
That we can get uh, uh sacks

My name is jamie madrox 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 seen me wearin' a damn thing green bitch
I'm far from rich, i got a hooptie
With a smash in the fender and in the back too
I got a broken taillight and i'll smash you, bitch
Get outta my way, we got clown luv
Phat props to the lyrical tom dub

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 kicking
I slap hoes and call them bitches to their face
And scream, "now fuck off bitch, twiztid in the place"
So back up, recognize and check nuts
'cuz simply my dear, i don't give a fuck

Yo, this mo styles in dis peace, what's up son?
Yeah, what's up son
I'm lookin' for this deal, you know what i'm sayin'
I got raps to bust for y'all
Y'all ready for mo styles?
I'm about to kick this flow

You ready for this shit or what?
Who is this?
Word life son
I'm mo styles
I'm straight from the hood
I got all my peoples on 1-800-increase-y'all
We coming hard
(bring it, bring it, bring it)

My name's 2 dope and sometimes shaggy
Sometimes shaggs and some times gweedy
I get mad stupid, i gets mad ill
Locked down on all 5, fuck it, i do this still
Stretch my nuts back like a sling shot
I plant 'em in your mouth
Shake my hips like elvis, wiggling my pelvis
Last kid that stepped, i applied the camel clutch
And stretched his back like a muthafuckin' bungie jump
(uh, uh, uh)

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 'cuz my free styles are fresh

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