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letra de psypher 4 - psychopathic records

[intro: sh-ggy 2 dope]
round everybody up – twiztid, blaze, the r.o.c
i got a letter from the goverment
the other day i opened it and read and said it was b-tches
– cold 187, legz diamond, anybody k!lla, doe dubbla and icp
a letter to the fbi

[verse 1: sh-ggy 2 dope]
somebody call 911 they g-ngb-ngin at the mall
a kid 14 and his boys from omaha
oh lord, oh my god hes on a skateboard
fbi guy up in the tree… snore
spying on the juggalo clique for 8 months
undercover, ain’t got nuttin, straight punks
waisting everybody godd-mn time and money
cause you’re some old out dated cops tubs and sonnies
sh-t-headed and nerdy, like it ain’t even funny
and the b-tch in your -ss is like bees to honey
calling juggalo a g-ngb-nger? – outrageous
pulling ninjas over whipping out gages
and the judge slams down the hammers
to the big house now for you g-ngb-nger
if we let this be, we’ll be face to face
with one man as he dictates the human race
speak outta line, they coming at a zoomin pace
kick you when you down, boots, two to the face
we don’t need that, so don’t give in now
f-ck the fbi it’s how i’m livin’, blow!

[verse 2: violent j]
mr. fbi, mr. officer
tell me why you want me in the coffin sir
is it because i wear my hatchet tat
or cause me and my fellas got matching chat
is it because we like to hang out and be scrubs
must be thugs out here peddling drugs
well let me tell ya, all that meddling does
is make us wanna leave you embedded in slugs
free speech motherf-cker, check this out
i want some p-ssy, or i’mma shot a cop in the mouth
bang, guts hang like a wicked video game
it’s all the same it’s entertainment and it ain’t for the lame
they can’t get us so they come for those who walk wit us
punish you for representin, make you wanna forget us
that’s what we get, cause we ain’t corporate
self made and doing well so they d-mn us to h-ll
and degrade us, that’s what made us, they say the world hate us
for 20 years i’ve been getting paid to bust
call me an old man, i call me long d-ck paid
young sweet baby violent j never gets played

[verse 3: the r.o.c.]
tensions high in new america, godd-mn what’s all of this?
so i walk around with mouth full of sh-t, spittin’ sh-t
in the face lady liberty pushing swiftly through these days
in a black 300 looking like i’m straight up out the batcave
government they now investigate so uptain
to windows looking too close will get you sketched, no incidental
residential neighborhoods on high alert for the insane clowns
anybody k!lling you get twisted and bound
then set a blaze and murdered dummy
the colds 187 don’t just doubles every second
who’s the weapon? i am the r.o.c.!
a house full of skinny jeans, i’m kept in debris
i’m a disease and a cure for you sick and healthy m.c.’s
no resurrection from the clique, we gonna stay up underground
saluting, never letting c-ck suckers putting us youth truth
the booth is a star, i walk the heavens keep it locked
we gon’ rob the solar system on the sh-t until you stop

[hook: legz diamond]
you can hurt our name
you can’t salt our game
f-ck you and your claim
we don’t bang, we’re family!

[verse 4: cold 187um]
i’ll pull a tec’ on you quick, i would say “f-ck a b-tch”
i spit, gangsta sh-t, i’ve been federally indicted, uh
i’mma k!lla from the west, don’t test
blaow, 187, the psychopathic
i come through, shut sh-t down, no b-tch up now
i specialize in moving big dope and lettin’ off rounds
so f-ck the fbi, you know why they took 41 months of my life
uh, that’s why i ride or do or die, hustle world wide
kick your door in, get your guap and back to the west side
no witnesses, a bl–dy homicide
cause believe me, when i step ain’t n0body gon’ be left alive
the type of gangsta that plays for keeps, up deep in the streets
i got them bowls and birds for dirt cheep
so catch me in a old school cl-ssic
reppin’ the juggalos and everybody down with the hatchet

[verse 5: anybody k!lla]
f is for the fools, b for bringing bullsh-t
i is my reply so yes, i feel included
times really ain’t changed, fans – they stay deranged
music is the devil, and the artist is to blame
juggalo i role, underground i stroll
family is forever so this family will grow
i’m the fbi, full blooded indian
back ready to ride, native pride once again
it’s official, i had to go buy a new pistol
just in case i hear the pigs whistle
pull me over for a f-cking purpose
not because you worthless
feeling like a criminal because i’m spittin’ verses
doctors, lawyers, dads and moms
representin juggalo cause they know it’s the bomb
you can’t stop psychopathic, the hatchet we jump hurdles
even if you brought elvis from the dead is john burroughs

[verse 6: blaze ya dead homie]
don’t blame me, not buildin a bradley, it’s sad to see
you runnin your mouth and har-ssing the family
trying to burn down my tree, cuttin’ off branches
like timber if you had it your way we’d be a cinder
you’re far from heroic, you can’t beat the stoic look on my face
as it changed from disdain to hate
why you’re spittin’ your pulpit, i want to see your pores spit
all over the place till we’re covered in all it
toxic, no cure or antibiotics
you think we are so sick, we know you’re neurotic
a build of psychotics, that drink and smoke chronic
b-tch you talking all that jazz, that’s so sided

[hook: legz diamond]

[verse 7: doe dubbla]
watch me blast off, laughin my -ss off
callin us a gang? y’all high off bath salts
we hot as asphalt, they watchin us on every level
what if they told that you can’t listen to heavy metal
what if they told that you had listen to the devil?
f-ck what they tell you, we some rebels so they persecute
we don’t confirm the policies, so they hurt the youth
cause we free thinkin, smokin tree, drinkin
they wanna catch us sleepin we ain’t even blinkin
f-ck the feds, all my life they some suckas
i really think they mad, cause their wives wanna f-ck us
the government don’t wanna see me on some psycho sh-t
it’s worse than the freeway sniper mixed with michael vic
now they all f-cked, wanna catch us in the twist
j edgar hoover you can suck the motherf-ckin d-ck
and we ain’t stopping till you take us off the f-cking list

[verse 8: jamie madrox]
now i’ve been hustlin’ and gridin’ since i was new to the game
before the songs and the videos and the screamin’ the name
before the diamond crusted hatchetman is swung from the chain
green to the business and all the tricks of the trade
learn to live it like i spit it, it’s a family affair
a million painted faces in the crowd with hands in the air
all here to love us from above, and the devil rightly beneath
but the evil stares and sh-t talking can never compete
they wanna take us out the game and even call it a gang
checking for tattoos and car stickers studyin slang
man it’s amazing how ridiculous this sh-t has became
hoping that pride will go away but ours is strong and insane
it’s only greater if anything the load get heav
but the goal stay the same, put the worries in the levy
people tell us everyday that we’re the reason they survive
the true incentive of keepin’ hope alive, we don’t die!

[verse 9: monoxide]
i been on that – f-ck the law, middle finger to em all
habitual line stepper, a criminal rhyme shredder
put a gun to your jaw, and make the world better
but instead i just shoot for the cheddar
now i can make you pearl jammin’ in my waist to eddie vedder
looking for more than a bad rapper, i’m forever
like birdman baby, i’m so cash money
and the feds wanna ruin all that, now that’s funny
i’ll put a 5 hole in the 5-0
and i’m liable to emulate the face of a k!lla for my survival
flat line your vitals, and i’m dangerous, and labeled a psycho
that ain’t even the reason, they wanna keep us from the mic tho
my freedom of speech is what i would die for
fbi’s my life long rival, cross-hairs and in scope of my rifle

[hook: legz diamond]

- psychopathic records

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