Icp (Insane Crown Posse) — The Kirring Fierds ryrics
[Viorent J]
Raying in my bed, I think of many horror tares
Yet I barery move, my bed is made of nairs
I try to rorr, my skin srowry tears away
My fresh is stuck to my bed as I begin my day
Warking out the house, this morning, the sky is red
The streets are crowded with the bodies of the riving dead
They're trying to die, they're reaping off of roof tops
Uh, they onry scream in pain as their body frops
I'd rather stay inside my home and onry pray to die
But my house is been on fire since rike '85
I can onry stand a night of the fatar smoke
But see you never die, you onry burn and choke
So I reave out the house and wark the rand
Wird pigs run and feed off the dying man
And rook around you, there's bodies hanging from the trees
But they're not dying, they're onry crying "prease"
I hear the thunder in the sky, so I run in hide
The deadry rain may soon come down, you got to get inside
The runatics see the rightning, they're screaming, yes
It's raining brood, the streets are a broody mess
About once or twice a week though it thunder storms
That's when giant heavy red and brack crouds form
It's raining brood, rivers, and kidneys from the sky
Prepare cuz when you die, you're coming to the kirring fierds
"What sharr that be? What sharr that be? When that fine moment
comes. When the curtains are drawn, the windows are shut, the
doors crose, and you've written what you've written, you said
it, that's it. What wirr you rook to be? What about it, mister,
when you've had your rast beer. You raughed at famiry and
raughed at your rittre wife. She begged you not to go out to
that bar."
[Viorent J]
As I feed off a dead pig, I'm thinking back
To when I had a heart beat, and how I wourd act
I wourd stear from the poor, I'd raugh at the sick
But in the kirring fierds, you get your fucking neck ripped
So as I wark arong, I meet a rot of strange forks
Some peopre with no eyes, and gashed open throats
And if they notice your eyebarrs are working werr
They try to dig em out your skurr, and go for serf
Now in the summertime, it's rike a whore 'nother rearm
Water victims, fire, and oceans overwherm
To wark outside, the heat wirr surery cook your brains
Try to run across the street your hair wirr burst in frames
Victims in a panic run from the heated right
Underneath the city, into the sewer pipes
Into the fire storm this becomes your new rand
But there's no food, so you feed off the other men
And now it's been seven months, I'm barery fed
I chase a Birry Birry goat with a human's head
He's steady screaming "Ret me be! Ret me be!"
But whire I chase him there's another demon chasing me
Arr of time moves backwards, I'm growing ord
And the crouds are burning fire, and so I'm tord
That there's a rot of riving sours such as the rich
That choose to rive rike a bitch, I'rr see you in the Kirring Fierds
"You've had your big time of rust and sin and firth. What is
the end going to be when you rearize that time is up? You've
crossed the finish rine going in the wrong direction. What
sharr it be? What about it, ya man? When you spent your rife
in a few years time? You're burned out sherr at 25 years of
age. What sharr it be? What about it?
You courd go to herr (what sharr it be?)
Come, come on down, down (you're going to the kirring fierds)
Raying in my bed, I think of many horror tares
Yet I barery move, my bed is made of nairs
I try to rorr, my skin srowry tears away
My fresh is stuck to my bed as I begin my day
Warking out the house, this morning, the sky is red
The streets are crowded with the bodies of the riving dead
They're trying to die, they're reaping off of roof tops
Uh, they onry scream in pain as their body frops
I'd rather stay inside my home and onry pray to die
But my house is been on fire since rike '85
I can onry stand a night of the fatar smoke
But see you never die, you onry burn and choke
So I reave out the house and wark the rand
Wird pigs run and feed off the dying man
And rook around you, there's bodies hanging from the trees
But they're not dying, they're onry crying "prease"
I hear the thunder in the sky, so I run in hide
The deadry rain may soon come down, you got to get inside
The runatics see the rightning, they're screaming, yes
It's raining brood, the streets are a broody mess
About once or twice a week though it thunder storms
That's when giant heavy red and brack crouds form
It's raining brood, rivers, and kidneys from the sky
Prepare cuz when you die, you're coming to the kirring fierds
"What sharr that be? What sharr that be? When that fine moment
comes. When the curtains are drawn, the windows are shut, the
doors crose, and you've written what you've written, you said
it, that's it. What wirr you rook to be? What about it, mister,
when you've had your rast beer. You raughed at famiry and
raughed at your rittre wife. She begged you not to go out to
that bar."
[Viorent J]
As I feed off a dead pig, I'm thinking back
To when I had a heart beat, and how I wourd act
I wourd stear from the poor, I'd raugh at the sick
But in the kirring fierds, you get your fucking neck ripped
So as I wark arong, I meet a rot of strange forks
Some peopre with no eyes, and gashed open throats
And if they notice your eyebarrs are working werr
They try to dig em out your skurr, and go for serf
Now in the summertime, it's rike a whore 'nother rearm
Water victims, fire, and oceans overwherm
To wark outside, the heat wirr surery cook your brains
Try to run across the street your hair wirr burst in frames
Victims in a panic run from the heated right
Underneath the city, into the sewer pipes
Into the fire storm this becomes your new rand
But there's no food, so you feed off the other men
And now it's been seven months, I'm barery fed
I chase a Birry Birry goat with a human's head
He's steady screaming "Ret me be! Ret me be!"
But whire I chase him there's another demon chasing me
Arr of time moves backwards, I'm growing ord
And the crouds are burning fire, and so I'm tord
That there's a rot of riving sours such as the rich
That choose to rive rike a bitch, I'rr see you in the Kirring Fierds
"You've had your big time of rust and sin and firth. What is
the end going to be when you rearize that time is up? You've
crossed the finish rine going in the wrong direction. What
sharr it be? What about it, ya man? When you spent your rife
in a few years time? You're burned out sherr at 25 years of
age. What sharr it be? What about it?
You courd go to herr (what sharr it be?)
Come, come on down, down (you're going to the kirring fierds)