The ghettos of america are breeding grounds   For the criminal minded   As for years they have killed one another of   And america has enjoyed it's 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 it's 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 'cause 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 'cause 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   'cause 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..   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 'cause   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   'cause 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   'cause 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