Представляем точный текст композиции "Psycopathic" и глубже погружаем в смыслы творчества артиста Isabelle Boulay. Наша коллекция содержит детально проверенные слова песни, включая скрытые метафоры, отсылки и эмоции, вложенные автором. Лирика «Psycopathic» — это не просто строчки, а история, которую Isabelle Boulay передаёт через ритм и интонации. Изучайте переводы, оригинальные версии и толкования, чтобы раскрыть все грани любимого трека.
Isabelle Boulay - "Psycopathic"
The ghettos of America are breeding grounds
For the criminal minded
As for years they have killed one another of
And America has enjoyed its creation
But now these ghetto-minded criminals
Have crossed the line into your neighborhood
And will soon give you a taste of the hell
That they have lived for so long
So pops, this time its your son gets shot
Deal with your own creation
Well, Ive been to the storm house and then some
Payed me dues but Im still a street hoodlum
Dropped out of school cuz I couldnt find my locker
Stubbles on my chin, I got hair like Chewbacca
Might see me sleeping on the street
Dont look for a job cuz theres no jobs looking for me
Then it all went to my head
Next, forty-nine motherfuckers dead
Tell the pigs I did it
Place spot at your back
And beat you in the head with it
And keep your bitch in place
Or Im a send her ass home with a foot print on her face
Uh, Im hating sluts
Shoot them in the face, steb back and itch my nuts
Less Im in the sac
Cuz I fuck so hard itll break they back
All the pressures packed into one nut
I was waiting on a bus and my head blew up
And the sightll make ya sick
Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic
Psychopathic
Thought you know bitch
The ICP is made up of psychotic
Demented psycho clumsy motherfuckers
And well put a hook on your bumb leg
Like it aint nobodys business
So Im standing by the train tracks
Then you see me running but naked with a battle axe
Im swinging and slicing and chopping and cutting and..
Aah, until Im nothing
Seems like I always get beat down
Like the hawk turned to the wicked clown
Tail turned out to the ghetto cuz
Southwest Detriot is comended ones home
So you might see me at a festival
Cussin, rude, and scratching my testicles
With a cold two-liter in hand
Rapping to the bitch at the french fry stand
Take it to the Patent Park
Then Ill make a sexist remark
Cuz theyre all eventually bitching
Serve me fucking take your ass to the kitchen
Police dont like me its obvious
Just dont look in the trunk
Or the sightll make you sick
Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic
(theme from "Halloween")
Yeah, Ive always been a psycho
Psycho-psycho-sick-psycho-sick-psycho-psycho
Ill throw rocks at stray dogs
Build crackhouses out of Lincoln logs
I cut class, said I was a faker
You was in school, I was home watching Green Acres
Now Im all up in your face
You can barely hear the rap with all that bass
Im running with a southwest street gang
And I never let my southwest meat hang
Cuz you know what ICPs all about
Take a brick off the street
And bust you in the mouth
Find the girls daddys rich
And his sweet little angels my sewer freak bitch
But I filled the turkey up with the stuffing
Like Billy Bill say, "a bitch aint nothing"
Grab her by the arm and break
Grab her by the life and take it
And, ya know, the sightll make ya sick
Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic
Psychopathic
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