Null lyrics

Song information

Artist: Icp (Insane Clown Posse)
Album: Riddle Box (Explicit)

Lyrics

I lived my life in the gutter! and this gutter is who I am!
Take me back home to my gutter, and that's where I won't ever leave
Again!

Hey! I'm comin' home, home to the criminals and crooks
Home to the gangbangers shootin' dirty looks
Home to the killer cops beatin' down my ass
Home to my '72 vallary prayin' it will last
Past all the rich bitches try'na play me out
Doggin' on my neighborhood, don't know what it's about
So now I'm clockin' nuggets, never hangin' with the rich
I'd rather hang out with the crookeds at the party store, bitch!
Gimme coney, dawg, with a little smog
Cuz it tastes better than the poisonous fog
Seen it from the sewers in my slummy neighborhood
But the ghetto got love and the love is all good
So I don't give a fuck about your mansion by the lake
You can suck my dingaling until your neck breaks
Cuz all I wanna do is hang with the zombies in the zone
Break out with the faygo. I'm comin' home

(Chorus):
Home to the creatures, home to the crooks
Home to the fools readin' witchcraft books
Home to the monsters roamin' the land
I wanna come home but ya don't understand

Bitch, I'm comin home, and I'm not alone
Jokers and freaks and the dead body bones
Every single thing that ya never wanna see
Add it all together and ya got me!
Ah, nobody give a fuck about your punk ass rules
Keystone coppers and your hypocrite schools
I'd much rather lay around the streets and the gutter
And make dirty phone calls to your rich mother
Put up last midnight and I'm wakin' up the dead
And we playin' kickball with sombody's head
We go skinny-dippin' in the barrels of toxic waste
After that, I pour myself a little taste
So tell your mother that she's nothin' but a fat bitch
And all my homies don't care if the hoe's rich
Somebody out here, please let me know if there's a phone
I need to call my mother, and tell her I'm comin' home

(Chorus)

I'm comin' home. chicken, chicken bone
Sugar plumb wishes and ice cream cones
All these fake people sayin' hi to one another
Then they sit around and talk shit about each other
Watering the grass, diggin' in they ass
Try'na make sure they didn't lose any cash
Workin' hard all you life, and now you're finally rich
But look at you, you're just another whack bitch! heh
Call in the slum, that's where the bums
Murderers, and slaughterers. so that's what I become
Spare a little change, cuz I just ran outta gas
Reach for your quarter and I'll stick your fuckin' ass
Nobody wants to be around the ghetto breed
The ghetto got each other, and that's all we really need
So what the fuck I'm doin' down here? I got a land of my own
Hey, yo, dawg, fuck it, we goin' home

(Chorus)
(Chorus)
(Chorus)
(Chorus)
(Chorus)
(Chorus)
(Group chorus)
(Group chorus)
(Group chorus w/ fade out)
(Group chorus w/ fade out)

[from http://lyrics.doheth.co.uk]

"Riddle Box (Explicit)" album track list