8 Ways to Die - Insane Clown Posse, DJ Paul, Stitches

Four in the morning, lightning crackin', rain is pouring yet

I’m still up doing lines of no-doze like my life’s important, man

I don’t mean shit to nobody, especially you

Never scared to pull something out of my waist, give you a taste of this (Boom)

Lay you flat dirty rat in fact you ain’t coming back (Nope)

Better have that shit sewed up with God before you hear that clap

Bring it back where my stacks?

What you thinking fool?

S dub D 'til I D-I-E, A-S-S down in the blood pool

'Cause your nightmares, they my wet dreams

Fucking with my team I wish you would you b-string we supreme

Premo, woo!

T-R-O-Y

Reminisce over your bitch ass and don’t nobody even cry (Nope)

It’s no surprise don’t nobody even ask why

It’s no surprise we glad to see you die, bitch

Hit that fifth and chug

Skin full of the meth bugs

So who do you love?

You know I got the plug bitch

I’m a dope dealer and I’m from Dade county

I got kilos of cocaine I keep them shits around me

I got lots of haters, I’m always counting paper

My shoes are made from an alligator

I don’t sell no re-rock, I don’t rock no g-shock

I get money lil nigga thug life like I’m 2Pac

What do you want?

I got it all

I got a lil shawty and she wanna ball

She want a dope dealer, you can fuck with me (Yeah, yeah)

You can fuck with me (Yeah, yeah)

You can fuck with me (Ha ha ha ha ha)

You can fuck with me (Uh)

You can fuck with me

I put the dope in the pot (For real)

I can run up in your spot (Yuh)

All that tough talkin' you be doin' gon' get hit you up with the Glock

Name another rapper that has sold more dope than me

The only way that I’ma stop is if they come and murder me

Coming to like a wicked preacher in the pulpit

Eight ways to die, kill a ninja with the full

All that stuff you rapping be bull-bull-bullshit

Rappers get killed for being wack, you can’t fuck with my clique

Psycho cyphers Micheal Myers set your body on fire

Let the air out your head like a flat tire

Are you in good hands, better call State Farm

It’s getting hot up in this bitch ring the fire alarm

I’m gone, I’m thugged out, I was raised in a drug house

I come through like Raid on these roaches, they bug out

Your girlfriend getting dug out, it’s blood on the rug now

I’m turning your power off pulling your plug out

Next rapper say yeah I’ma shoot him yeah

Is his ass dead?

Yeah!

Hit him in his head!

I’m a fucking psycho, homie, I’m a clown

I never get it twisted in Mo-Town

I come down from the heavens and I’m best friends with Jesus

I be the fallen angel and I wrote Kkkill the Fetus

I spit this wicked shit for all these heathens cause they heinous

But still it’s hell on earth I got three stripes on my Adidas

Eight ways to die, bruh, I’m an eight legged spider

I walk up with an AK and light up your concert

Just killing anyone that’s happy you alive

If you survive in a suit and tie you getting crucified

With a nail gun

Motherfucker, my dick’s so big that it look like a whale tongue

Mac-11 Lethal dropping microphones up in it

It’s the middle of the map its Kansas City that I hail from

Everybody fuck with me I rip so nice and fast kid

If you ever fuck with me I dip your wife in acid

I’m with that dark juggalo clique

The Incredible Hulk on some Mark Ruffalo shit

I got a big hard buffalo dick

I might start humping your chick

I’m a motherfucking lunatic I pull the skeleton up out your mouth

Just like bunch of elephants up in a stampede

Sticking a fucking blade up in your lung and you can’t breathe

Bring them raccs out

Succa brain bout to get splat now

Bring that map out, I’ma put my city on the map now

Sin City on blacc out

Extension cords in that trap house

We done made our own power lines turned the bando to a cat house (Meow, meow)

Talk that shit down

«Ouija got a chicc with a dicc now»

Say what?!?

30 round clip now just enough for you to get dicced down

How bout that now?

17 tat now

17 raccs now

Shawty ass clap like a pacced crowd

Let them talk that shit, won’t walk that shit I bust them in they shit

I pull up on him, Kid don’t want it but you finally got some drip

You can wait to hit the lottery I’m bout to hit a licc

You can wait on your retirement, I’m bout to break a bitch

Hol up' wait all my hoes exfoliate

All you broke mothafuccers you can still afford to hate

What’s that beefin' to a vegan I stacc broccoli on my plate

I can be stepping on all over these rapper neccs with every mo’fuccin' step

that I take

Ouija

MAFIA!

DJ PAUL!

Hunnit off in a clip

Ima push

Double barrel, double R on the grill

Diamond fangs in a grip

Johnny Dang got the drip

Smoke a quarter word to Elon, more notorious than B-I-G

Was strappin' 'fore I had a gun ID

Rubber bands on a hunnit grand layin' on my hand like I’m T.I.P

Nigga this is just a PSA

I’m dropping bones like I’m DTP

Pass the weed like a box of yay

Niggas copy but I do get paid

Surf’s up tryna ride this wave

I got pocket rockets and some knotted wallets keep the molly in a Gucci safe

20 bitches on a 20 gauge

20 haters that’s 20 graves

Beat the case like MMA

Run the club like some

to this silence

I’m colorblind 'til I get violent

Run your mouth you got some mileage

Feature my work to O’Reilly’s nigga

Take me out the worst way

Apocalypse on my birthday

When you starving you eat shit til' I piss on all the thirsty

For your applause my mental problem out for revenge every autumn

Stimulate to get down them all innovators fend 'em off

And lock me up nightly go psycho when you don’t like me

What’s in my hands?

Ain’t my ID

At gunpoint make you recite me

I see some demons that might be trying to fuck me or fight me

Because I wasn’t wrapped tightly at Heaven’s Gate in black Nikes

I’m in that house like a home invasion because your family need a renovation

Say ho don’t say Amen say 6−7-8−9 Satan

I’m a trapped ghost in a iPod and the batteries have been died off

Evil in me no antidote it’s boring shooting cantaloupe

And I’m about what killers do so much they start to kill in school

The heroes lame, the villains cool

Death is here I’m feeling cruel

Burnt flesh that’s brand loyal

Bullet holes your guts boil

King of nothing, Fuck royal

There will be blood, I struck oil

What I’m Freddy Kruger, Lex Luthor, Chad Kroeger

The dick in Nickleback who tickle fat nipples on cougars

Sippin' Boocha, your boo fuck with me

'Cause I’m super fly, I splash her neden Jimmy Snuka

I’ll slap you, spin your face 'round to the back of your head

You’ll have to chop a hole through your wig or suffocate dead

I’ll make the sunshine bright at midnight or black out at noon

Put so much heart in this every beat kicks as a sonic boom

I blow hurricanes, spit monsoons and stomp earthquakes

And me and my Ruby known to bust and murder snakes

I’ll snatch right up in your earhole put your brain in your hand

You’ll still be trying to comprehend when you end (Dang man)

The hatchet been chopping for years

I’ll flex on all of my peers

So high I be poppin' your ears

You rockin' a toilet career

You bust to a brush in a mirror

You flush and your fans disappear

Your stacks are like flat as a beer

Left out in the sun for a year

Trained in Shaolin, red moon howlin'

Decades deep, stomach still growlin'

Elbow to eyeball I’m foulin'

'Til your momma threw the towel in

But I caught it, she fought it and brought it, I applauded

But my rocket kick out it clocked out I sock it and she bought it

With that shing-shing-shing-shing walla-walla bing bing

True ninjutsu Joe Bruce ying yang

Six Six Fivin' big dicks diving

Up in you bitch it’s a ICP thing

ICP THANG

ICP THANG

ICP THANG

ICP THANG ICP THANG