Free Studio - The Entire Hatchet Family by Insane Clown Posse
(Violent J)
You guys ready?
Alright, I'm first with the freestyle up in the free studio
Lotus Pod, Uhh
I split your whole fucking forehead open Rude Boy style
I keep it raunchy and funky
Like a dirty laundry pile
I can rhyme, I can rap, I can sing, I can clap
I can dance, you should see me right now, but you can't
I turn heads like an explosion when I hit the door.
I put Zach Gowen in a figure four
in front of the liquor store
I can get pimply like pillow talk with love songs
Anyway that I can get up in that ass like a thong
I brings it on
(Esham)
Bitch, I'm back when you thought I was gone
I'm sipping shots of syrup straight to the dome
I'm all up in your home, you all alone
Twilight zone,
ET phone home
Don't pick up the chrome,
no don't pick up the chrome
When she picked up the phone
the back of her brains blown
No screams, no moans
Not a mortician, make sure your head gets sewn on
Now that you're dead on gone
(Anybody Killa)
Listen up, pay attention while this shits still in my head
Psychopathic mothafucker
Representing black and red
Pointing fingers at my enemies
Native nuts get these
Mark ass bustas acting hard, bitch please
Have you ever heard the sound
Of a meat cleaver swinging?
Head in a handbag, hoe church singing
Stare up at the moon hoe
Look at all the light
That's where you run
When you see some killers in sight
(Monoxide Child)
They call me M-O-N-O-X-I-D to the E
And it really don't matter what you think of me
I'm up in this bitch for free
Hanging with family
And all I keep thinking is
I hope somebody brought a bag of weed
I like them flavored blunt wraps
Or a peach white owl
But here, I'm in a hurry
So just pack a bowl for now
It's still a hatchet bitch
Ain't nothing change
But my bracket bitching
If you just can't deal with that
(Come and see the red and black)
(Jumpsteady)
As the cold night folds round
We be creeping without a sound
With rydas who are bound
As the steering wheel turns around
Our ghost car drifting in and out the street lights
Wizards in the back who know the craft of street fights
Heads be bobbing
As smoke is floating from window cracks
A nightmare Cadillac with white reflected off our gats
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