Luyện nghe bài hát Psycopathic

The ghettos of america are breeding
For the minded
As for years they have killed one of
And has enjoyed it's creation
But now ghetto-minded criminals
crossed the line into your neighborhood
And will give you a taste of the hell
That they have for so long
So pops, this time it's your son shot
Deal your own creation
Well, I've been to the storm house and some
me dues but I'm still a street hoodlum
Dropped out of school 'cause I couldn't my locker
Stubbles on my chin, I got like chewbacca
Might see me sleeping on the
Don't look for a job 'cause there's no jobs for me
Then it all went to my
Next, forty-nine dead
Tell the I did it
Place at your back
And you in the head with it
And your bitch in place
Or I'm a send her ass home with a print on her face
Uh, I'm hating
Shoot them in the face, back and itch my nuts
I'm in the sac
'cause I fuck so it'll break they back
All the pressure's packed one nut
I was on a bus and my head blew up
And the sight'll make ya
Violent j, motherfucker,

Thought you bitch
The icp is up of psychotic
psycho clumsy motherfuckers
And put a hook on your bumb leg
it ain't nobody's business
So I'm standing by the train
you see me running but naked with a battle axe
I'm and slicing and chopping and cutting and..
Aah, until I'm
Seems like I always get beat
Like the turned to the wicked clown
turned out to the ghetto 'cause
Southwest detriot is comended home
So you see me at a festival
Cussin', rude, and scratching my
a cold two-liter in hand
Rapping to the bitch at the fry stand
it to the patent park
Then I'll make a remark
they're all eventually bitching
Serve me fucking take ass to the kitchen
don't like me it's obvious
Just don't in the trunk
Or the sight'll you sick
Violent j, motherfucker,
(theme "halloween")
Yeah, I've always a psycho

I'll rocks at stray dogs
Build out of lincoln logs
I cut class, said I was a
You was in school, I was watching green acres
Now I'm all up in face
You can barely hear the rap all that bass
I'm with a southwest street gang
And I never let my southwest meat
'cause you what icp's all about
a brick off the street
And bust you in the
the girl's daddy's rich
And his sweet little angel's my freak bitch
But I filled the turkey up with the
billy bill say, "a bitch ain't nothing"
Grab her by the arm and
Grab her by the life and it
And, ya know, the make ya sick
Violent j, motherfucker,