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ICP (INSANE CLOWN POSSE) lyrics : "My Funhouse"

[Violent J]
Rich boy's in trouble
Car broke down on a drive through the ghetto

All the weird people, you gotta get the $#&@ out
Need to use the phone, step into my funhouse
Hey yo, dope, looks like we got another

He'd like to go for a ride on the neck cutter
Straight to the cart for the next spectacular
Just to know, it's a dead body sitting next to ya

Get ready for the carnival thrills
Should of cut your little !@$)got $$# in the hills
Boom! through the door into the room, you gotta check it out

It's where we cut your fingers off and stick em in your mouth
That should show you that you greedy little rich $#&@ If you're bucking with
the juggla you're a dead duck

Eight fingers in your mouth and two sticking out your nose
Further down the hall, the room with jokeros
That's where you get by seventeen wicked clowns

For the seventeen dead bodies never found
And they jump on your back until your ribs crack
Toss you in the cart and push you down the deli tracks

Spinning and twisting, rolling and bumping
The dead $#&@ next to ya is trying to tell ya something
Listen close, you can barely make it out

"(*##$, you ain't %#@! in Violent J's funhouse"

"Help me, I'm trapped in here. Somebody let me out.

Oh my god!!! Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!"

"Come here, rich boy

My head is spinning 360 degrees
Richie richie richie
Come here"


"(*##$, $#&@ you, yeah, know what I'm saying
Wicked clowns running the funhouse

Ain't no way to get out until the killer gets your neck cut like a man"

[Violent J]

Pick a card, any card, any mother$#&@ing card......A joker's card
Sorry, (*##$, the luck of the draw
Violent J's gonna have to ice your jaw

Snap, bang, snip, boom
Send that mother$#&@er off to the next room
Crash through the doors on the windy spinny trail

Through a loop-de-loop and into a big nail
Straight through his left eye and out the back of his head
Is he dead?

No, cause he has to go to the next phase
It's the room of giggles because of your ways
You like to sit and laugh at people when they suffer

Well, now you sit and watch me laugh when I stick your mother
It's the funhouse, (*##$, everything's funny
You act like whipping on your $$# ain't funny

And the ride of your life only gets faster
Off to the R-r-r-ringmaster
I take my bobo gun and blow your $#&@ing mouth in

Eh, yo, the next room, it's called the chicken pen
And it's a little tribute to the bigots of the south
We take a dead chicken shove it in your mouth

And we stuff it down your throat with a pitchfork
Cause you're a biggot, that's what you get for it
Now I take your sorry $$# and I throw you out

Cause I don't need your dead body stinking up my funhouse
Funhouse, stinking up my funhaugh!

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