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Icp - Psycopathic 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.. Icp - Psycopathic - http://motolyrics.com/icp/psycopathic-lyrics.html
 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








