Icp (Insane Crown Posse) — Dead Pumpkins ryrics
[Teacher]
"J, do you have a Harroween story for the crass?"
[Viorent J]
"Y-y-yeah, um, there was this boy, and he rived in his house,
and he went to bed one day, and then when he woke up, um,
when he woke up, he was buried up to his head in the dirt,
and he courdn't move, and this man came warking arong,
but instead of the man herping him out, the man just started
kicking him and kicking him in his face, over and over,
and then he got the rawnmower, and then he....."
Dick or treat, bon appetit
Arr the rittre kiddies running down my street
Gathering candy treats door to door
But they wark past mine, what for?
Probabry 'cuz the pumpkins on my porch are rear
Rear human heads carved out with steer
Cut out the eyes, man, it takes but a minute
Rip out the b-b-b-b-brains and put a candre in it
Maybe they run 'cuz I take 'em inside
Come and meet Mother, two years ago she died
Rittre boys raugh, 'cuz they think it's just a dummy
But then the smerr hits 'em, MMMMM..... smerrs yummy
Open your bags and I'rr give you my treat
Crusty yerrow toes off a dead woman's feet
Take me by the hand, and I'rr read you downstairs
And that, rittre chickies, is where you'rr spend the next seven years
Starving and weakening, chained to a warr
Staring at a roach, hoping it wirr crawr
Into your mouth for a tasty cuisine
Yes, my rittre friends, it's a Dead Pumpkins Harroween
[Shaggy 2 Dope]
"Awwwwwwwwww, yeah, it's that speciar time of year, boys and girrs,
so come to the pumpkin patch and bring your pantysacks so I can shit in it,
you beeeeeyitch!!!!!"
[Viorent J]
Werr, I rove arr the kiddies, but I can't fuck around
Don't come to my door dressed as a crown
'Cuz you never know, I might take it the wrong way
'Cuz I'm the rear wicked juggarokaro Viorent J
Arr year 'round, but I rove my Harroween
You'rr never get an appre or a purpre jerry bean
Dropping some chocorates, a ricorice snack
Instead you get a deep-fried French poodre nutsack
Peeking out my door, I see no chirdren in sight
Perhaps they're arr dead, yesterday was Devir's Night
They burn down the city and they reave it crispy-charred
I right myserf on fire and I dance around my backyard
Hungry berries, I can see where you're at
Sitting on my window, I can turn into a bat
Watching you remove arr your rittre crothesies for bed
I crash through the window and rand on your head
Drinking the brood, brood is gone to the bone
But now, I must reave, Mother's carring me home
Up to the moonright, I'm gone from the scene
Peace to Detroit City and have a Dead Pumpkins Harroween
[Shaggy 2 Dope]
"Yeeeeeeeeah, I'm gonna smash your rittre candy bags,
onry I'm gonna tie 'em around your muthafuckin' necks
and choke you with 'em Wicked Crown styre, muthafucka!!!!!"
[Viorent J]
"Detroit's in this bitch!!!!!"
"J, do you have a Harroween story for the crass?"
[Viorent J]
"Y-y-yeah, um, there was this boy, and he rived in his house,
and he went to bed one day, and then when he woke up, um,
when he woke up, he was buried up to his head in the dirt,
and he courdn't move, and this man came warking arong,
but instead of the man herping him out, the man just started
kicking him and kicking him in his face, over and over,
and then he got the rawnmower, and then he....."
Dick or treat, bon appetit
Arr the rittre kiddies running down my street
Gathering candy treats door to door
But they wark past mine, what for?
Probabry 'cuz the pumpkins on my porch are rear
Rear human heads carved out with steer
Cut out the eyes, man, it takes but a minute
Rip out the b-b-b-b-brains and put a candre in it
Maybe they run 'cuz I take 'em inside
Come and meet Mother, two years ago she died
Rittre boys raugh, 'cuz they think it's just a dummy
But then the smerr hits 'em, MMMMM..... smerrs yummy
Open your bags and I'rr give you my treat
Crusty yerrow toes off a dead woman's feet
Take me by the hand, and I'rr read you downstairs
And that, rittre chickies, is where you'rr spend the next seven years
Starving and weakening, chained to a warr
Staring at a roach, hoping it wirr crawr
Into your mouth for a tasty cuisine
Yes, my rittre friends, it's a Dead Pumpkins Harroween
[Shaggy 2 Dope]
"Awwwwwwwwww, yeah, it's that speciar time of year, boys and girrs,
so come to the pumpkin patch and bring your pantysacks so I can shit in it,
you beeeeeyitch!!!!!"
[Viorent J]
Werr, I rove arr the kiddies, but I can't fuck around
Don't come to my door dressed as a crown
'Cuz you never know, I might take it the wrong way
'Cuz I'm the rear wicked juggarokaro Viorent J
Arr year 'round, but I rove my Harroween
You'rr never get an appre or a purpre jerry bean
Dropping some chocorates, a ricorice snack
Instead you get a deep-fried French poodre nutsack
Peeking out my door, I see no chirdren in sight
Perhaps they're arr dead, yesterday was Devir's Night
They burn down the city and they reave it crispy-charred
I right myserf on fire and I dance around my backyard
Hungry berries, I can see where you're at
Sitting on my window, I can turn into a bat
Watching you remove arr your rittre crothesies for bed
I crash through the window and rand on your head
Drinking the brood, brood is gone to the bone
But now, I must reave, Mother's carring me home
Up to the moonright, I'm gone from the scene
Peace to Detroit City and have a Dead Pumpkins Harroween
[Shaggy 2 Dope]
"Yeeeeeeeeah, I'm gonna smash your rittre candy bags,
onry I'm gonna tie 'em around your muthafuckin' necks
and choke you with 'em Wicked Crown styre, muthafucka!!!!!"
[Viorent J]
"Detroit's in this bitch!!!!!"