Juggalo Anthem

(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, ridin' from the cradle to the casket

And beyond, recognize thug shit

Poundin' out the trunk bitch

Runnin' wit' a mother fuckin' 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)

Sportin' all black kahkis with the mother fuckin' cuffs up

Smokin' Hella trees, tryin' to make a couple G's

So a thug can get back on his feet

Mean muggin', steady thuggin'

And I'm tryin' to find the hoodrat's all about fuckin'

Still loked out

All my dawgs from the past, dead or smoked out

Still tryin' 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! x 4

(Blaze)

Bitches freeze, you aint a thug or a G or a banga'

You's a studio gangsta

You aint about shit, scared to pull the trigga'

That's what we call, a real bitch nigga' (bitch nigga')

Sneekin' through the hood, throwin' up a set

Hangin' out the window, yellin' idol threats

Check this out, I'm a check your chin

Close your mouth, 'fore I put the barrel in

Dumpin' clips in yo ass is what I'm all about

Straight G from the clique on a paper route

Still slappin' 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, givin' half the advantage

Fuck a style and a status

Half of y'all hummin' 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 aint got heart, don't expect to have your shit tight

There aint 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 aint 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

*Hammer slide*