Cotton Candy
Insane Clown Posse
4:35They got Uzis, they got shotguns, they got explosives They got access to any kind of weapon they want within 24 hours We got over 50 thousand gangbangers out there Violent J servin' ghetto hard street shit You know it's potent when the funky-ass beat hits Rolling the dice and we's hittin' point (ICP) out of Southwest Detroit Running with a gang of twenty street hoods Hookers on my back, 'cause I'm sellin' them cheap goods Lookin' through the motherfucking alleyway They can't catch Violent-Crazy-Ass-Psychopath J But I guess I wasn't so crazy this time Now I'm chillin' in the back of car 49 You ask why I'm grippin' that metal They put a man on the moon, but can't do shit for the ghetto I look at all that and it makes me sick I wanna grab them motherfuckers, make 'em swallow a brick So I grab anybody I can find Beat a fiend in the head with a goddamn stop sign Flex one of us and I'ma find you Bullet rips through your chest and hits a bitch behind you Killed two birds with one stone You're layin' in the street with a bullet in your dome And to them hillbillies listening down South Talk shit about the city with my nuts in your wife's mouth And keep stringing on your banjo 'Cause we don't like that shit where I come from, bro Now the ICP stands alone In the Southwest Ghetto Zone Southwest Detroit, this demented one's home (ah, for Christ's sake) Ah, you don't talk about that garbage out here That's for the hell hole where you come from Southwest Detroit, this demented one's home (this is) (The good part of town) We let you deal with that type of bullshit Your problems don't concern us Go home now, well, go on Southwest Detroit, this demented one's home The cops just don't know what to do Southwest Detroit, this demented one's home The cops just don't know what to do Southwest Detroit, this demented one's home The cops just don't know what to do Southwest Detroit, this demented one's home The cops just don't know what to do Jumpsteady, Rude Boy, and the BSR They got my back, O.G., you won't make it far I got my nine in my gut and it's startin' to hurt Where can you keep a gat wearing Skidz and a t-shirt? Now I'm roamin' like a true ghetto thug Fiends on the sack 'cause I'm booming that crack I know you heard aloud what J said When I told you that I sold to your bitch, that basehead No, you can't argue with the truth If I hit you in your mouth, you're gonna spit out a tooth And I laugh at a motherfuckin' cop Sitting' with his fat ass in a donut shop At the party, when the ICP shows they face Billy clubs and handcuffs all over the place We're here to protect and protect we do Then I ask who the fuck protects us from you? Cops always beatin' on someone Shot a mute in the back, he told him not to run And the motherfuckin' Black Panthers know it That's why it's cops now that are catching a bullet I'm running, I'm running, we'll end the chase When Jumpsteady puts his gauge in your mother fucking face Mind your own In the Southwest Ghetto Zone Hey yo, G! Man, who the fuck you think you are, man? You know who you're fuckin' with? The I-C motherfucking P, G! So if I was you, I'd step the fuck off before you get shot, boy Keep runnin' your lips, see what happens motherfucker Yeah, G! See what I'm saying, though? Now what's up with that shit? Come to Delray, a driveby ain't shit The cops just don't know what to do Come to Delray, a driveby ain't shit The cops just don't know what to do Come to Delray, a driveby ain't shit The cops just don't know what to do Come to Delray, a driveby ain't shit The cops just don't know what to do These are my homeboys, vato See, our homies here is all we have, man I love them They love me back, man We barrio So I guess I'm a bad guy 'Cause I cuss a lot, I say "fuck" a lot And I rap to tell you how I'm feelin' When I'm in the old spot, sit up and we wheelin' Through Delray, call it Hellray It's where the ICP stay (yo, J) And the fools that always talk shit get beat And if I'm outnumbered, I gots a gauge in the backseat 'Cause when I'm feeling like a mack dad In the trunk of my ride, I got weapons that I never had A thousand mother fuckers in the back make the car sag Rodney's fat ass makes the whole damn muffler drag Rappin' to a sack chasin' hottie I told the bitch I ain't never even seen a Maserati Ever sell out to a freak? (Fuck no) That why I'll tell you that I love to box with a ho' When the check comes, I ignore it And the bitch is gonna ask me to fuckin' pay for it I gave the ho' an empty 12-pack Take your ass to the store and bring some Faygo back That's all I'll pay for, bitch, now get the fuck on, ho' Stick around I got something you can suck on, ho' Violent J won't be ganked By no nappy headed, bare-footed, crack-headed sewer skank You gotta handle your own In the Southwest Ghetto Zone The cops just don't know what to do (yeah) Causing my destruction The cops just don't know what to do (ICP) The cops just don't know what to do Causing my destruction The cops just don't know what to do And to all the sects running in Southwest Detroit Good luck and stay strong (causing my destruction) (The cops just don't know what to do) Latin Counts (the cops just don't know what to do) Young Guns (causing my destruction) (The cops just don't know what to do) CFP (the cops just don't know what to do) X-Men (causing my destruction) (The cops just don't know what to do) To the Cobras (the cops just don't know what to do) And DT (causing my destruction) (The cops just don't know what to do) (The cops just don't know what to do) (Causing my destruction) (The cops just don't know what to do) ICP They got Uzis, they got shotguns, they got explosives They got shotguns, they got Uzis, they got shotguns They got explosives, they got shotguns, they got Uzis They got shotguns, they got explosives, they got shotguns They got Uzis, they got shotguns, they got explosives They got shotguns, they got Uzis