Insane Clown Posse - 6 Foot 7 Foot (7 Foot 8 Foot) lyrics

Six foot, seven foot, eight-foot bunch
Six foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot

Ahem, excuse my charisma like
An escaped prisoner
Hoes got me in some hot pursuit, 'cause
I can shoot my jizzma like a fire hose
I suppose my glowin' shine is my
Proof from the truth
Groups of hoes love my stigma
I'm aloof and gone with my
Ninja poof like an enigma
Suppose hoes fuck their neden holes
With my action figure
Dre and Snoop, stop the coupe
And your toupee'll split ya
With my froze on my toes
King of Pop always hit ya
Life is the shit, as fire brains out, Ozzy
Jump out the lights into the pit, kamikaze
Suck on a grenade
Pop until your top splatter
Serve it at your funeral, appetizer platter
Headbutt a brick wall until
Your skull shatter
Let a whore sit on your face
Four hundred pounds or fatter
Don't matter, fuck your step sister
Pussy drama hit the Church of Scientology
A suicide bomber
I'll be the first to admit it gets worse
I'm a sex addict that'll stab your daughter
Sister or your mama
(Haha, or niece, cousins, auntie, grandma)

Six foot, seven foot, eight-foot bunch
Six foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot

(I'm going back in, okay)
I lost my mind, it's somewhere out there
Missing seen an elephant and a chipmunk
Fucking and tongue kissing
Is that statutory? Do your thug thizzle
I ain't dissing use to have rock guitars
But now they Bobby Marz missing
Fade into obscurity, got one chance
Don't blow this
Didn't make it, fell underneath
No heart to show us
Some hate us 'cause it's ICP they hear
They know this and downgrade they record
Companies like retards, otis
Talking to myself
Please commit a mass murder
Barbecue they bodies
Want some cheese on your ass burger?
Get served! I'm Shaggy the Clown, bitch nerd!
I'm from Detroit Southwest
Forty miles outta Shit'sburg
I flip birds, 40 bottles to your mouth
Joey, you've got your own fucking album out
So, real killer all day and forever
When will we expire or retire? Bitch, never
Every week we complete and freak
A brand new endeavor
I'm tryna fuck Whitney Peyton
She always hatin', though
(Whatever)
Nova Cockaswella, Blow The Product, Gayshawn
I'm trying to hit that neden
I don't wanna do no gay song
You looking for the rub? Shit
I'm looking for a rubdown
Erotic city uptown
The psychopathic scrub clown
Popping two adderalls, three Viagras
And molly fucking two drunk cougars
Back seat of a Denali ("Ugh!")
Everything you ninjas drop, a complete miss
But George daddy’s pocket's deeper
Than the abyss
Nice offices and studio that everyone uses
So you must be magic
Every move y'all make loses (Ha ha ha)
Paper chasing
Tell that paper I already caught ya
Two paid off houses, two tuitions
I bought ya
Adversaries all see cemeteries when
I fought ya
Told Michael Jackson's daughter fucking Janet
As I watch ya (Ow)
Jumpsteady taught ya we ought to
Support our own goals
With dicks like telephone poles
Diggin' out hella blown holes
Become us in our own clothes
No-finger gloves and white rags (Rags)
Stunners like Stone Cold
We blingin' scrubs with hatchet flags
(Flags) some of us grown old
Yet hotties fuckin' out pajamas
Always my load, nutted in the eyes
Excuse my manners

Word to my mama, I'm hotter than lava, clean
You all wanna be, I'm bombing your team
Now it's a trauma scene
I chopper it, I have you missing like Hoffa
Like Dr king, I got a dream
And the vision's so proper
When it comes to cash, I'm a monster
'cause all I do is seek guap (Uh)
But I got the work stuffed in the pussy
That's a g-spot keep sleeping on me
I'm in your dreams like Krueger
Fuck how ya feeling
I'm a villain just like Lex Luther
And your ho, I'ma do her
She 'bout to blow like a tuba
You're talkin' wrong- pow! I'm lettin'
Go of that Ruger
I be laughin' about your rappin'
While I'm crackin' the ruler
Shout out to Psychopathic for splittin'
Them half of that gouda
They ain't live as I
I tear it up like a roofer (I)
It's a small thing to a giant
And they be soft as a loofa
J, mother fuckers already know that
Time for a show
I'm arrive when I load that 9
And I blow your mind from the floor on the
Grind, yes, I'm a pro when I rhyme, boss
Throw 'em in the pile, make 'em go when
I shine, for the dough, I climb
And I throw my sign better get away
I'm gonna come for your throat and
Your spin, let it soak in you swine, pussy
I'm a man of my word and I always be ahead
I'm a bust, feel that rush
So you know it's me
Fly City certified monstar, ya dig?
Ya heard? Lizzle

Shing! 17 (Throw some Hatchet Man)
17 (Glaciers)
17 (Southwestern lights, it ain't a dream, disco ball)
17 (Glistening)
17 (Shing, shimmer, shing, shing) haha