ICP (INSANE CLOWN POSSE) - How Many Times lyrics
(chorus:)
How many times will I ask myself, why how many times?
How many times will I ask myself, why how many times will I cry?
(end chorus)
(chorus)
How many times will you honk your horn and say fuck you?
Now what the fuck does that do?
Ya feel better now? I didn't let ya pass,
How 'bout I stop my car, and beat your fuckin' ass?
How many times will my neighbor beat his wife?
Somewhere in that house there's a butcher knife.
Fuckin' drunk, swingin' his fists about,
Why don't you wait till he sleeps, then take him out?
How many times will I sit in a hot car?
Traffic jam, been sittin' for a fuckin' hour.
Must be an accident, I hope nobody died,
Finally get there, and the crash is on the other side!
The gawkers roll by and creep slow,
Hopin' they can see a mangled body show.
Some park, and stand there and watch it all,
With their kids, they point, and fuckin' stare! (and just look!)
I remember one time I was pulled over,
Handcuffed, the cop was like, show's over.
People watching, hoping that he shoots me,
I just wanted to choke their fucking heads!
(chorus w/vocal ad lib)
(chorus)
How many times will I wait in a line,
It's three-thirty, I fuckin' got here at nine.
I'm finally up to the front, can't wait another minute,
Why am I here? To pay a fucking parking ticket.
The lady at the counter acts like a fuckin' bitch,
No smiles, no help, you're just a piece of shit,
I'm gettin' pissed, calm down, fuck it, forget it,
Back to my car, and there it is, another ticket!
How many times will a crackhead smoke crack,
And ask me for some money cuz he wants crack,
Give him money, again, he's coming back,
Walk away, and here's another, "Gimmie crack."
How many time will a kid give a dirty look,
A little punk-ass bitch tryin to be a crook,
I wrote the book, I was out robbin' liquor stores,
When you were just a nut stain in your mama'a drawers.
(chorus w/vocal ad lib)
(chorus)
How many times will you steal my car stereo,
It don't even work, ya feel like a bitch, don't ya?
I vacuum all the fuckin' glass off from my seat,
I sit down, and got a piece stuck in my butt-cheek.
How many times did I walk in, and just sit,
And have to listen, and learn all this bullshit,
Learnin' history and science, fuckin' wait,
Knowin' that, will that put food on my plate?
Yeah, can I walk into McDonald's, into the counter,
And tell 'em you can make limestone from gunpowder,
Will they give me a cheeseburger if I know that shit?
Fuck no, fuck you, and shut your fuckin' lip!
How many times will a judge decide my fate,
Who is he? A bitch! Nothin' great.
He takes shits, and fuck his old floppy wife,
Plays with his balls and judges my life! (And who the fuck is he? He
judges my life!)
(chorus w/vocal ad lib)
(chorus)
(chorus)
(chorus)
"Dawg, I peels cats all day long, mutha fucka. The call me the big wheeler
cat peeler, ya know what I'm sayin'? I run this whole mutha fucka. The whole
block, dawg. They call me the king. The big king. King killer big wheeler
cat peeler, yeah. That's what they call me around this mutha fucka. I run
this bitch. I got this bitch locked down. I'm a big gang
banga, man. I'm a gang banga mutha fucka. See, they ain't think that we was
gang bangin' out in this neighborhood, but they don't know about me and my
clik, dawg. And if you all wanna be down, shit, we can sit down and talk,
ya know what I'm sayin-"
"BOBBY!!! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE RIGHT NOW AND FINISH YOUR HOMEWORK!"
"Uh, here I come! Aw dawg, I gotta go, man. But look, meet me here tomorrow
after school. Oh wait, I got yearbook. Awright, meet me here around
five-thirty tomorrow, dawg. Awright guys, peace."
"I hope he doesn't get grounded, dude."
"Yeah, me too, 'cause then we couldn't be gang bangers."
