If I Was A Serial Killer - Insane Clown Posse

If I was a serial killer

They would find all my victims heads

In funky-ass gas station toilets

And if I was a serial killer

I would be strange and deranged

And I would never change

If I was a serial killer

I’d be known as «The Smoker»

Cuz I would cut off and smoke all of they hair

And if I was a serial killer

I would sleep on broken glass and thumb tacks

And I would smoke mad crack

First thing I would do would be to kill a couple hotties

That always get 'em mustered up;

decapitated bodies

Dumped on state police lawn just before dawn

To let 'em know my ritual had begun

I’d crack a 40 with the devil, tell him dig me a hole

Cuz I’m comin when I die, until that I’m in control

This is if I was a serial killer, and though I ain’t

But if I was I’d do my walls up blood red with blood paint

This is if I was a serial killer, and though I ain’t

But if I was I’d never stop because I’d know that I can’t

If I was a serial killer

I would drive a back van

And I would ride around the college campus

And if I was a serial killer

I would walk among us and gain trust

Until I needed that rush

I park outside these bitches homes then drive away

Then come back with my light off, this time I’m here to stay

I’d wear human bones around my neck and have my ceremonies

Then go back upstairs and microwave some macaronis

You know what’s all up in my trunk, so don’t ask me to pop it

Once I get out to my cabin then I’ll finally unlock it

This is if I was a serial killer, and though I’m not

If was I’d snap a photo once they die on the spot

This is if I was serial killer, and though I’m not

But if I was I’d know that I can’t, so I would never stop

And I don’t know myself anymore

And I don’t know who I am anymore

And I don’t know who to be anymore

And I don’t know who I am anymore

And I don’t know what to think anymore

And I don’t know who I am anymore

Except that I am strange and deranged

And I don’t know who I am anymore

And I will never change

I wanna hold up this hatchet

This Psychopathic wicked shit will burn a hole in ya brain

(Chop it on down)

I wanna run with this hatchet

We gonna always keep it wicked, shit gonna always be the same

(Chop it on down)

I wanna hold up this hatchet

Fuck the world, take me under, bitch we tryin' to rule the tunnels

The Tempest raining lighting bolts and fire rain

ICP with Mike E. Clark again

(I wanna run with this hatchet)

Wicked clowns, Blaze, Twiztid, Boondox and Lotus

Holding down the underground and you know this

I wanna run with this hatchet

And you know this

Chop it on down

(Whoop Whoop!)

(Whoop Whoop!)

Chop it on down

(Whoop Whoop!)

(Whoop Whoop!)

I wanna hold up this hatchet

This Psychopathic wicked shit will burn a hole in ya brain

(Chop it on down)

I wanna run with this hatchet

We gonna always keep it wicked, shit gonna always be the same

(Chop it on down)

I wanna hold up this hatchet

Fuck the world, take me under, bitch we tryin' to rule the tunnels

The Tempest raining lighting bolts and fire rain

ICP with Mike E. Clark again

(I wanna run with this hatchet)

Wicked clowns, Blaze, Twiztid, Boondox and Lotus

Holding down the underground and you know this

I wanna run with this hatchet

And you know this

Chop it on down

(Whoop Whoop!)

(Whoop Whoop!)

Chop it on down

(Whoop Whoop!)

(Whoop Whoop!)

I wanna hold up this hatchet

This Psychopathic wicked shit will burn a hole in ya brain

(Chop it on down)

I wanna run with this hatchet

We gonna always keep it wicked, shit gonna always be the same

(Chop it on down)

I wanna hold up this hatchet

Fuck the world, take me under, bitch we tryin' to rule the tunnels

The Tempest raining lighting bolts and fire rain

ICP with Mike E. Clark again

(I wanna run with this hatchet)

Wicked clowns, Blaze, Twiztid, Boondox and Lotus

Holding down the underground and you know this

I wanna run with this hatchet

And you know this

And you know this

If I was a serial killer, I would bury all my special projects

Underneath the garden in my grandmother’s back yard

And if I was a serial killer, I would be strange and deranged

And I would rock my hatchet chain