Kurbee
07-11-2004, 09:00 PM
Check it out,
Another fuckin' sampler, I won't even front,
I'll fuckin tell you all about out shit, Simple and blunt,
And if you take the time to listen as I run this down,
Maybe you'll even dig our shit and understand the Wicked Clowns,
We forever underground, cause up on the surface,
They've always said we're talentless pieces of shit and worthless,
Yet, as I'm writin' this now, I glance over at the wall and I dont know how,
But we got 2 platinum albums and another four gold,
And we never used MTV we went up the back road,
And built a fan base thats so behind the Clown,
That they'll tear your fuckin city in half to show they down,
But see thats just it though, It ain't a fan base,
It's a family drawn together like we from outer space,
I mean, we call ourself Juggalos, I guess I'd explain,
We relate cause we been through the same kinds of pain,
I mean ICP don't rap about the money we get,
Because half the Juggalos so broke, they stealin our shit,
And they don't wanna hear about us pushin' a Benz,
When they takin' fuckin' Greyhounds just to get to Gatherings,
We likes it wicked, we keeps it wicked,
We like cartoon serial slaughterers on our records,
Its how we adjust to the pressures of life,
Let our music do the killing for you, You'll be alright,
And seriously, Ain't you the least bit curious?,
Whats up with this underground world? We gettin' furious,
Just like the sampler that your bumpin right now,
This might be your callin' to our Carnival Grounds,
Tell me this, mutha fucka, Truly, How you livin?,
Ever get the urge, Maybe do a little wig splittin'?,
Ever been the last kid picked for a team?,
Ever had mutha fuckas come and shit on your dreams?,
Do you have ideas and somethin to say?,
Only ain't nobody ever got they ears pointed your way,
Ever been fucked with for like this and like that,
and go home with crazy thoughts about cuttin' they neck?,
You might find an excape in this banded world of hate,
We been gettin' shit on homie, We can relate,
Ain't nobody here datin' any Hollywood stars,
Attendin' VIP parties at high profile bars,
But if we ain't yo cup of tea, just don't fuck wit me,
I respect teh fuck out the fact that you stuck wit' me,
And listened on as we tried to explain ourselves,
Cause the hatchet's husslin' for some record sales,
We know ICP is fuckin' hated and doubted,
But our new album's the bomb and I wouldn't lie about it,
We call it the Wraith and its the sixth joker's card,
And the Juggalo world's been waitin' long and hard,
So we savin' it all, We won't play you a lick,
That's why the got me right here rappin' bout the shit,
But for ten years this album has been in our focus,
Everything from Dog Beats, onto the Dark lotus,
And it's finally droppin' on November fifth,
Unless the fuckin' record label fucks up the shit,
Plan is thats the day, thats the best we can do,
Will be put in the stores and delivered to you,
Or you can download the shit free, most probably will,
But the packaging and booklet that comes with it,
Still the best way of coppin' it free,
Is to hit a record store and pluck the CD,
Get you the booklet, and get you the disc,
and leave all the case and the cover and shit,
And then buy somethin' cheap like a Britney Spears sticker,
So they don't get suspicious when they see you at the register,
One way or the other, I can promise you this,
Juggalo or not, Our fuckin' record's the shit,
And I don't give a fuck what Rollin' Stone ends up givin',
Cause thats just some fuckin' other idiots opinion,
If he knows whats so dope, He should make it his self,
And quit fuckin' judgin' every fuckin body else,
Anyway, All we tryin' to say, is that our bomb ass LP is headin' your way,
A little somethin' for the underdogs out there,
We extendin' a Dap to let you know that we here,
And our Carnival doors is always open to yours,
And for everybody else we stand up and applaude,
For takin' a little time to listen to me spit,
On this here free CD hatchet sampler shit,
And for all the Juggalos out there that been knew the deal,
We put together this here for you to feel, Come on...
Another fuckin' sampler, I won't even front,
I'll fuckin tell you all about out shit, Simple and blunt,
And if you take the time to listen as I run this down,
Maybe you'll even dig our shit and understand the Wicked Clowns,
We forever underground, cause up on the surface,
They've always said we're talentless pieces of shit and worthless,
Yet, as I'm writin' this now, I glance over at the wall and I dont know how,
But we got 2 platinum albums and another four gold,
And we never used MTV we went up the back road,
And built a fan base thats so behind the Clown,
That they'll tear your fuckin city in half to show they down,
But see thats just it though, It ain't a fan base,
It's a family drawn together like we from outer space,
I mean, we call ourself Juggalos, I guess I'd explain,
We relate cause we been through the same kinds of pain,
I mean ICP don't rap about the money we get,
Because half the Juggalos so broke, they stealin our shit,
And they don't wanna hear about us pushin' a Benz,
When they takin' fuckin' Greyhounds just to get to Gatherings,
We likes it wicked, we keeps it wicked,
We like cartoon serial slaughterers on our records,
Its how we adjust to the pressures of life,
Let our music do the killing for you, You'll be alright,
And seriously, Ain't you the least bit curious?,
Whats up with this underground world? We gettin' furious,
Just like the sampler that your bumpin right now,
This might be your callin' to our Carnival Grounds,
Tell me this, mutha fucka, Truly, How you livin?,
Ever get the urge, Maybe do a little wig splittin'?,
Ever been the last kid picked for a team?,
Ever had mutha fuckas come and shit on your dreams?,
Do you have ideas and somethin to say?,
Only ain't nobody ever got they ears pointed your way,
Ever been fucked with for like this and like that,
and go home with crazy thoughts about cuttin' they neck?,
You might find an excape in this banded world of hate,
We been gettin' shit on homie, We can relate,
Ain't nobody here datin' any Hollywood stars,
Attendin' VIP parties at high profile bars,
But if we ain't yo cup of tea, just don't fuck wit me,
I respect teh fuck out the fact that you stuck wit' me,
And listened on as we tried to explain ourselves,
Cause the hatchet's husslin' for some record sales,
We know ICP is fuckin' hated and doubted,
But our new album's the bomb and I wouldn't lie about it,
We call it the Wraith and its the sixth joker's card,
And the Juggalo world's been waitin' long and hard,
So we savin' it all, We won't play you a lick,
That's why the got me right here rappin' bout the shit,
But for ten years this album has been in our focus,
Everything from Dog Beats, onto the Dark lotus,
And it's finally droppin' on November fifth,
Unless the fuckin' record label fucks up the shit,
Plan is thats the day, thats the best we can do,
Will be put in the stores and delivered to you,
Or you can download the shit free, most probably will,
But the packaging and booklet that comes with it,
Still the best way of coppin' it free,
Is to hit a record store and pluck the CD,
Get you the booklet, and get you the disc,
and leave all the case and the cover and shit,
And then buy somethin' cheap like a Britney Spears sticker,
So they don't get suspicious when they see you at the register,
One way or the other, I can promise you this,
Juggalo or not, Our fuckin' record's the shit,
And I don't give a fuck what Rollin' Stone ends up givin',
Cause thats just some fuckin' other idiots opinion,
If he knows whats so dope, He should make it his self,
And quit fuckin' judgin' every fuckin body else,
Anyway, All we tryin' to say, is that our bomb ass LP is headin' your way,
A little somethin' for the underdogs out there,
We extendin' a Dap to let you know that we here,
And our Carnival doors is always open to yours,
And for everybody else we stand up and applaude,
For takin' a little time to listen to me spit,
On this here free CD hatchet sampler shit,
And for all the Juggalos out there that been knew the deal,
We put together this here for you to feel, Come on...