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Correct Juggalo Anthem Lyrics
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Artists: B
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Blaze Ya Dead Homie
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Correct Juggalo Anthem
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Lyrics:
(Violent J) Killas kick the anthem like this Juggalos up in this bitch, up in this bitch 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 shit Poundin' out the trunk bitch Runnin' wit' a mother fuckin' hatchet You haters, you suck dick was a thug, became a G B to the L to the A, Z, E, still dead Still don't give a fuck (give a fuck) Sportin' all black kahkis with the mother fuckin' cuffs up Smokin' Hella 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 fuckin' Still loked out All my dawgs from the past, dead or smoked out Still tryin' to come up on a lick for a phat ass ride So I can drop the top, and parlay through the east side Chorus(Monoxide Child) Niggas kick the anthem like this Juggalos up in this bitch, up in this bitch! X 4 (Blaze) Bitches freeze, you aint a thug or a G or a banga' You's a studio gangsta You aint about shit, scared to pull the trigga' That's what we call, a real bitch nigga' (bitch nigga') 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 ass is what I'm all about Straight G from the clique on a paper route Still slappin' off fake bitches with the Louiville Beat a nigga' to the pavement, another bitch killed Chorus(Monoxide Child) (Jaime Madrox) This is the battle for the planets We bring the thunder, givin' half the advantage Fuck a style and a status Half of y'all hummin' off a half ass deal And got the nerve to tell a mother fucker "keep it real" We see through y'all fools, like cellophane on the square pack You bite our shit, you can keep it, we don't want it back We don't give a fuck, east side for life And if you aint got heart, don't expect to have your shit tight There aint no room for the hoe-hearted We give a fuck where you at, or who you wit', or how you got started Fuck 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 fuck it, no speakin your name You're just a bitch in the game And y'all niggas gone' always be the same Chorus x8 *Hammer slide*
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