ICP (INSANE CLOWN POSSE)

ICP (INSANE CLOWN POSSE) - Intro (Psychopathics From Outer Space Part 2) lyrics

[Kool Keith]

Yeah...

I'm finished workin on the project already

The hype prolonged it, you couldn't handle the deadline

Your team wasn't ready, you tried a pop direction

That wasn't yo' section

We looked over your chorus and yo' rap bars

Analyzed your music, those happy-ass keys

Made you softer than ever, rap some more you should never

I decided to listen, I turned the music off

Becaue the melodies were cotton candy, the music was soft

I heard too much pantyliner stuff

Too much model and whack-ass designer stuff, no masculine touch

Adolescent, let the guy know his tracks is whack

He won't be back

Disrespect yo' production, producer credits

Receive the B stain on the form

Now face the two inch, reel gettin warm

Drop the top of your head

Drum machine gets smacked up beside your face

With a six-pack of beer

I urinate on you Pro Tools mix in your ear

Yellow hats wearin construction gear

Tear down the knobs, off the manly

Set the focus right on fire

You better call the cops and hide behind the Stanley

Studio booked up, New York power play, Unique tried to ban me

Type of guy to bring Texaco gas in the vocal booth

Light a match, burn up your whole family

You're just a big talker, you're not a man to me

Pulled the wires out the back of the amp

Defecate on your drum pads with a maxi

Brown sheepskin, black execution mask

Brass out your Yamaha speakers, shotgun I missed three

other speakers I got one, with great danes, chewin out your amps

You won't be able to duck for long, seen niggaz in summer camp

With men-e-strual cramps

Watch the black afro in the corner with the Huggies

With the diaper rash around your pelvis

Drivin a green Volkswagen buggy, you know Muggy

7 foot 7 orangutang baboon face

From Baltimore, Maryland notorious comin up the turnpike

To move your SSL board out to Richmond, Tony Pissman

In the stationwagon, your engineer's scared to mix the record

down, next to my cousin Bucky

Just eight other computers destroyed

The B-room is still there, your clients are lucky

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