Tekster: Twiztid. Shittalkaz.

Yo this is serious shit right here

Me and my boys, we don't fuck around

You know what I'm sayin'?

So if you diss me

My muthafuckin' people, or the niggas I roll with

You know what?

Y'all done fucked up

Here go the shittalkin'



You's a bitch ass hoe

What you really know about killas for real though?

Stainin' my freek show, gang of lunatics

We the rebels for the dead

Fuckin' with us you lose your muthafuckin' head

And ya talkin' to your bitch ass hoes even a little

Rather beat ya to shit, and pull the plug at the hospital

Callin' me this, callin' me that

Cause you's a bitch ass nigga from the jump I wanna slap

With the old school beat down, 10 on 1

I don't remember no fair fights where I'm from

Maniac and I'ma stand right where the bloodstain is at

Hopin' you come back, nigga fuck that

I'm the poster child of death

I'ma keep swingin' my axe till nuthin's left

I ain't havin' that so fuck you bitch

Tell your friends I'ma hater and I'm talkin' shit



Man I don't give a fuck how many records you sell

Stories you tell, nigga check yourself

And fuck that bitch that you're with too

When the shit go down, where the fuck your crew?

Probably at home bumpin' someone else

When the shit went down they told you fuck yourself

Now you cryin' inside little thug still frontin'

Thinkin' to yourself why the fuck you say something

Too many niggas wanna beat me up

Steal my shit, slap my bitch

I'm like fuck this

Now you know what it's like

To deal with real killas that don't play, everyday

Knockin' suckas out the box, who wanna get some?

Seven video channels for my victims

I ain't havin' that fuck you bitch

Tell your friends I'ma hater and I'm talkin' shit



We the things that go bump in the night

We ain't got no love for you, you need to get some shit right

Bitch who you think you're fuckin' with?


We keep this shit like a track meet, we be runnin' it

With the hatchet on the back

While other bitches suckin' sour tits for air time and similac

We say fuck that, matter of fact

You tainted our style bitch boy we want our shit back

Don't get your head cracked you ain't tough

And all them skills don't mean shit when you get fucked up

So fuck your set, and fuck your crew

And fuck every muthafucka around and down with you

And you ain't puttin' nothin on the map

Except for all this bullshit commercialized mainstream rap

And I ain't havin' that fuck you bitch

Tell your friends I'ma hater and I'm talkin' shit



Hoe ass hoes, we stomp those hoes

How the fuck you gonna step to Dark Carnival juggalos?

Creators of the wicked, night breeders

No little bitch faggots with blonde

So anytime you see me in public

You get a Faygo in your ass, and your jaws full of dick

You can keep your muthafuckin' TRL

I stay with my army in the underground and stay real

And burn down your little TV set

String Carson up with razor wire wrapped around his neck

Cause that's how we do all day

Cross to the other side bitch you're gonna pay

We stay on the dark side of the carnival grounds

Twiztid, Blaze, and 2 wicked clowns

Heads are finna get chopped off, and slit

Bout to take it way beyond talkin' shit



Hatchet don't count, hatchet ain't included

Knowin' goddamn well we the champs undisputed

We don't need your radios and MTV

Sellin' million, sayin' what the fuck we please

**** who's coat you ridin' on?

You gotta lick balls, and write him a song

You got his dick buried so far up your ass

It's hangin' out your mouth, but you like that

And **** tried to warn ya

And there you are receiving the dick in California

While you gettin' fucked on the West coast

I'm at home fuckin' Kim ****

Fuck all you faggot ass sell out hoes

And fuck anybody denying the juggalos

Come to the underground and get bit

Tell your boys I'ma hater and I'm talkin' helly shit!