blaze ya dead homie - hatchet execution lyrics
i represent southwest, del-ray jefferson
festival ridin’, we deemed around the mexican
me and violent j, we murder heroin addicts
with every different saws, screwdrivers, and automatics
i like killin’ anybody, i’m like anybody killa
i’m stompin’ thru yo’ city like a little godzilla
i’ll cut ya d-ck and b-lls off and make ya eat em’
then choke yo’ -ss to death so you won’t even need em’
punk b-tch!
you ever felt like you a freak in the night?
outcasted to the shadows cuz you don’t look right
hypnotized by the eyes from the average m-th-f-cka
chrome to his dome, if he cries, he’s a busta
there’s certain rituals for bein’ ghetto
keep yo’ -ss underground, when it’s dark, go balistic
i’m representin’ all the crazy juggalos
with a hatchet in they hand, smokin’ blunts after shows
think about it, you gotta give it up to blaze
i mean the guy is f-ckin’ dead in 47 different ways
yet he’s leavin’ heaven hangin’
and chillin’ with his boys
at least until they get his room ready in the nethervoid
for now he hits the joint until it ain’t none left
which ain’t bad for a dead guy supposedly with no breath
death ain’t scary, look at blaze, he’s straight
even with the maggots and all, he looks great
because i take out my hatchet and i quickly start axin’
i go juggaloco like a crazy -ss-ssin
twiztid and the posse, we say nothing confusing
why? why? why?
it’s just a hatchet execution…
a psychopathic execution
throw it up y’all, lemme see yo’ set shinin’
rhymin’
for this paper, ain’t nothin’, get back to grindin’
on the eastside
we ride
and drive-by
and if you actin’ live, kiss yo’ mama and wave her bye-bye
i try
to get along and it don’t work
i love to hurt
whip out the pistol and do the dirt
i lay em’ all down, shootin’ in crowds and head-bustin’
have yo’ people cussin’
he shot that m-th-f-cka for nothin’
i’m that dead body walkin’ r-t-rded and crazy
and i’m down to bust shots at cops on the daily
still claimin’ eastside but sides ain’t sh-t
cuz we all got love for the m-th-f-ckin’ hatchet
i got a little problem with actin’ a fool
i get violent like j and then i spray up the room
unfadable, real g’s never goin’ out
so i died, now i’m back, and i blast, and i’m out!
rock n rye with hennessy
dirty s-x in alleyways
chillin’ with the heads, drug dealers, and the runaways
killa, put yo’ gun away
don’t make me take yo’ life
type of m-th-f-cka bring an axe to a gunfight
represent the family with the utmost pride
and we runnin’ with a hatchet, m-th-f-cka, do or die
die m-th-f-cka is what i’m screamin’ when they go
and 187 on a m-th-f-ckin’ juggahoe!
because i take out my hatchet and i quickly start axin’
i go juggaloco like a crazy -ss-ssin
twiztid and the posse, we say nothing confusing
why? why? why?
it’s just a hatchet execution…
a psychopathic execution…
it’s just a hatchet execution…
a psychopathic execution…
man, f-ck that, that ain’t the end of this sh-t. i been waitin’ a long time
for this m-th-f-ckin’ alb-m to drop and i gotta send a couple shouts out to
my m-th-f-ckin’ homies: alex abbiss, billy bill, m-th-f-ckin’ stef, dirk, my
homie jumpsteady… my m-th-f-ckin’ partner rude boy… my m-th-f-ckin’ homie
tom dub… psychopathic patrick… m-th-f-ckin’ jelly nuts… pickles… n-cubed
in this m-th-f-cka… barry, matt nips, steve, jeremy, matt, eric, and
m-th-f-ckin’ adam… hey, hold up, what the f-ck you doin’ man? you better
turn that m-th-f-ckin’ music back on, i ain’t done yet… nate the mack,
violent j, sh-ggy 2 dope, monoxide, jamie madrox, my homie anybody
killa… that one crazy m-th-f-cka jeff… tall jess… mike p… j dirty,
m-th-f-ckin’ rah-rah… my homie synn… my homies in m-th-f-ckin’ dark lotus
and psychopathic rydas… big baby sweets, sugar beat, stank and poot,
moonglorious, southern crumpet, my homie krayzie bone from m-th-f-ckin’ bone
thugs, and the triple six mafia in this m-th-f-cka! and that’s psychopathic
till the day we die, b-tch!… oh yeah, and i gotta say w-ssup to
my m-th-f-ckin’ homies, the juggalos, b-mpin’ this sh-t right now! yeah!
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