Insane Clown Posse - My Funhouse lyrics

Rich boy's in trouble Car broke down on a drive through the ghetto All the weird people, you gotta get the f** out Need to use the phone, step into my funhouse Hey yo, dope, looks like we got another He'd like to go for a ride on the neck cutter Straight to the cart for the next spectacular Just to know, it's a dead body sittin' next to ya Get ready for the carnival thrills Should of cut your little f*ggot a** in the hills Boom, through the door into the room, you gotta check it out It's where we cut your fingers off and stick 'em in your mouth That should show you that you greedy little rich f** If you're bucking with the juggla you're a dead duck Eight fingers in your mouth and two sticking out your nose Further down the hall, the room with jokeros That's where you get by seventeen wicked clowns For the seventeen dead bodies never found And they jump on your back until your ribs crack Toss you in the cart and push you down the deli tracks Spinning and twisting, rolling and bumping The dead f** next to ya is trying to tell ya somethin' Listen close, you can barely make it out "b**h, you ain't sh** in my electric funhouse" "Help me, I'm trapped in here, somebody let me out Oh my God, ahh" "Come here, rich boy My head is spinning 360 degrees Richie, richie, richie Come here" "b**h, f** you, yeah, know what I'm saying Wicked clowns running the funhouse Ain't no way to get out until the k**er Gets your neck cut like a man" Pick a card, any card, any motherf**ing card, a joker's card Sorry, b**h, the luck of the draw Violent J's gonna have to ice your jaw Snap, bang, snip, boom Send that motherf**er off to the next room Crash through the doors on the windy spinny trail Through a loop-de-loop and into a big nail Straight through his left eye and out the back of his head, is he dead? No, 'cause he has to go to the next phase It's the room of giggles because of your ways You like to sit and laugh at people when they suffer Well, now you sit and watch me laugh when I stick your mother It's the funhouse, b**h, everything's funny You act like whipping on your a**, ain't funny? And the ride of your life only gets faster Off to the are-are-ringmaster I take my bobo gun and blow your f**in' mouth in Eh, yo, the next room, it's called the chicken pen And it's a little tribute to the bigots of the south We take a dead chicken, shove it in your mouth And we stuff it down your throat with a pitchfork 'cause you're a big gut, that's what you get for it Now I take your sorry a** and I throw you out 'cause I don't need your dead body stinkin' up my funhouse Funhouse, stinkin' up my funhaugh