Juggalo Anthem

(álbum: 1 Less G In The Hood - 2000)

[Violent J]
Killas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this bitch, up in this bitch
Killas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this biiiitch, blaze

[Blaze Ya Dead Homie]
G's up, riding from the cradle to the casket
And beyond, recognize thug shit
Pounding out the trunk bitch
Running wit' a mother fucking hatchet
you haters, you suck dick was a thug, became a G
B to the L to the A, Z, E, still dead
Still don't give a fuck (give a fuck)
Sporting all black kahkis with the mother fucking cuffs up
Smoking Hella trees, trying to make a couple G's
So a thug can get back on his feet
Mean mugging, steady thugging
And I'm trying to find the hoodrat's all about fucking
Still loked out
All my dawgs from the past, dead or smoked out
Still trying to come up on a lick for a phat ass ride
So I can drop the top, and parlay through the east side

[Chorus: Monoxide Child]
Niggas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this bitch, up in this bitch! [x4]

[Blaze]
Bitches freeze, you ain't a thug or a G or a banga'
You's a studio gangsta
You ain't about shit, scared to pull the trigga'
That's what we call, a real bitch nigga' (bitch nigga')
Sneeking through the hood, throwing up a set
Hanging out the window, yelling idol threats
Check this out, I'm a check your chin
Close your mouth, 'fore I put the barrel in
Dumping clips in yo ass is what I'm all about
Straight G from the clique on a paper route
Still slapping off fake bitches with the Louiville
Beat a nigga' to the pavement, another bitch killed

[Chorus: Monoxide Child]

[Jaime Madrox]
This is the battle for the planets
We bring the thunder, giving half the advantage
Fuck a style and a status
Half of y'all humming off a half ass deal
And got the nerve to tell a mother fucker "keep it real"
We see through y'all fools, like cellophane on the square pack
You bite our shit, you can keep it, we don't want it back
We don't give a fuck, east side for life
And if you ain't got heart, don't expect to have your shit tight
There ain't no room for the hoe-hearted
We give a fuck where you at, or who you wit', or how you got started
Fuck you and everybody in yo clique
If you don't run wit' a hatchet, or claim the Psychopathic
I ain't got time, to say no names
It's only 8 rhymes, no holla', we been in the game
Besides fuck it, no speakin your name
You're just a bitch in the game
And y'all niggas gone' always be the same

[Chorus x8]