A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

ICP (INSANE CLOWN POSSE) lyrics : "Toy Box"

"Ooo, I like this toy. Watch it go. Uw...wait!" [gunshots]

"We're sorry the person you are calling is dead"


[Violent J]
I was like six, I used to get dissed by the chicks

And everyone would chase me and hit me with bricks
And rocks and sticks and calling me names
And filled my lunchbox with frogbrains (eeww!)

When I left school, it was much iller
My daddy was a serial killer
And how about that, he'd always make me sit in the back

With all his dead bodies on my lap (move!)
When I got home, enough of the static
Hammer and tools, went up to the attic

Never knew any other girls or boys
Only my toys, toys, toys
Bang! Clang! Hammer and twist

Nobody knows I exist, and I'm pissed
But I won't be mentally scarred
Instead I make toys, toys of the graveyard

Monday, ringing the bell
It's all about show and tell, might as well
Show all these !@$(s just what I got

Yo, check out my toy box!

"Nothing feels better than a good harty-harr, right boys and girls"


[Violent J]
We got dead bodies everywhere you look

All the nerds sitting up front got cooked
Others start screaming and making a dash
So I start handing out toys fast at last

You like slinkies, we got slinkies
Only mine like to wrap around your face
And stretch, twist, kazoom

And whip your body all over the $#&@in room
So come, one at a time
Open your gift and what you will find

Is a toy, my friend, that you'll never forget
It's not everyday that you get your skull split
You like soldiers, we got soldiers

Made with rubber and steel, they look real
But I wouldn't just toss em under your bed
That's how you get an axe to the forehead (oww)

And don't let em sit around all day
Come home and find you mom, dead in the hallway
Cuz they can be nifty

All the toys are shifty, haha, in my toy box

"Woooowee, that sure sounds like fun!"


[Violent J]
That's not a toy, hey, wait a minute

Don't $#&@ around, homie, you can lose an eye with it
That's my double blade razor whip chop jimmy
And it's mine, mother$#&@er, so gimme gimme

You want toys, you come to the right place
Try my little toy, Mutilating Mental Case
Wind him up, let him go among all of ya

Then BANG! serial slaughterer
Your turn, reach in and get lucky
Oh look, he pulled out a rubber ducky

It make a funny sound and then BANG!
Blew the fingers off his $#&@in hand
Don't stop, class ain't done yet

I remember you calling me poindexter
Bookworm brainy, my aggrevation
Went into these little creations

Reach in, you might find something wicked
Wicked, scary, chop bang pickadery
Off with your head, a robot with a sword

But now he's looking at me, but what for?
"Eh, wait a minute, I made you
Get them, not me. Eh, wait a minute, mother$#&@er."

"Oh, I love this record."

Submit Corrections