blaze ya dead homie – juggalo anthem lyrics
(violent j)
killas kick the anthem like this
juggalos up in this b-tch, up in this b-tch
killas kick the anthem like this
juggalos up in this biiiitch, blaze
(blaze ya dead homie)
g’s up, ridin’ from the cradle to the casket
and beyond, recognize thug sh-t
poundin’ out the trunk b-tch
runnin’ wit’ a mother f-ckin’ hatchet
you haters, you suck d-ck was a thug, became a g
b to the l to the a, z, e, still dead
still don’t give a f-ck (give a f-ck)
sportin’ all black kahkis with the mother f-ckin’ cuffs up
smokin’ h-lla trees, tryin’ to make a couple g’s
so a thug can get back on his feet
mean muggin’, steady thuggin’
and i’m tryin’ to find the hoodrat’s all about f-ckin’
still loked out
all my dawgs from the past, dead or smoked out
still tryin’ to come up on a lick for a phat -ss ride
so i can drop the top, and parlay through the east side
chorus(monoxide child)
n-gg-s kick the anthem like this
juggalos up in this b-tch, up in this b-tch! x 4
(blaze)
b-tches freeze, you aint a thug or a g or a banga’
you’s a studio gangsta
you aint about sh-t, scared to pull the trigga’
that’s what we call, a real b-tch n-gg-‘ (b-tch n-gg-‘)
sneekin’ through the hood, throwin’ up a set
hangin’ out the window, yellin’ idol threats
check this out, i’m a check your chin
close your mouth, ‘fore i put the barrel in
dumpin’ clips in yo -ss is what i’m all about
straight g from the clique on a paper route
still slappin’ off fake b-tches with the louiville
beat a n-gg-‘ to the pavement, another b-tch killed
chorus(monoxide child)
(jaime madrox)
this is the battle for the planets
we bring the thunder, givin’ half the advantage
f-ck a style and a status
half of y’all hummin’ off a half -ss deal
and got the nerve to tell a mother f-cker “keep it real”
we see through y’all fools, like cellophane on the square pack
you bite our sh-t, you can keep it, we don’t want it back
we don’t give a f-ck, east side for life
and if you aint got heart, don’t expect to have your sh-t tight
there aint no room for the hoe-hearted
we give a f-ck where you at, or who you wit’, or how you got started
f-ck you and everybody in yo clique
if you don’t run wit’ a hatchet, or claim the psychopathic
i aint got time, to say no names
it’s only 8 rhymes, no holla’, we been in the game
besides f-ck it, no speakin your name
you’re just a b-tch in the game
and y’all n-gg-s gone’ always be the same
chorus x8
-hammer slide-
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