the show must go on lyrics – icp

awwwwwwwwww, sh*t! yo, check it out, man, icp back in the haugh man
violent-j, man, 2 dope, man, wicked clownz, man. ha ha ha

hey, quick, hurry up, bang
open your mouth cause here comes my w*ng
i’m violent-j, the southwest skitzo
born in a big top magical-majisto
dead-body disco. rappin’ to the hoochies
dirty old fat hoe’s come up with a smoochie
hoochie-coochie, la la la la la
i might pull your tongue out your mouth and try to hang ya
it’s a full moon and the riddles are calling
three more cards and the skies will be falling
but don’t take it from me, i’m just a clown
wicked clown, wicked town
juggalugagaluga lick it down, man up till my nuts start singing, dancing
hopping
i’m a keep bringing riddles and tricks and dead body chicks
with the swing of my magical wand
the show must go on

‘well, it all began when i was very young. my feelings were so excited about
the carnival
rides. everyone was jolly and jittery. i waited for their wackets until well
after dusk. that
night, while i was sleeping, i was awoken by a glow appearing. and, looking
out, i saw
strange men, cursing and filthy, and there were clowns, setting up their dreary
tent.’

i’m 2 dope and i sport tight wranglers
don’t say a word or i’ll kick ya in the neck b*tch
everybody ’round, make way for the clown
in new york, in la, in southwest town
walked into el rays, almost got my *ss kicked
rather just chill in the yard in my casket
call up the hoe’s have ’em swing by the tomb
and get a little stinky stank up in this b*tch
killer clowns kicked out the circus
used to get live let the midget ladies work this
i was a freak show, they called me the pogo
i can make my b*llsack bob like a yoyo
‘give it up! give it up!’
southwest looney tune, killed another red neck fun
his head a looney dune, gooney boon, gooney goon
i can hear the loons in my head as i sing my wicked song
the show must go on

‘i’ve never been afraid of clowns but these clowns were different. there was
nothing
funny about these clowns at all. the smiled, they juggled, they laughed, but
yet something
was terribly, terribly, wrong. i didn’t like these clowns for i could see
through them, i
knew what they were really like. i knew that this carnival that had come to my
village was
an evil, evil thing.’

come see the show, big top show
walk hand in hand with the dead carnival
dead carney, carnies, dead juggalos
walk hand in hand with the dead carnival

you ask do we gang, do we bang in a gang, mang?
do we bang-bang? i’m a gang banger, man
i bang in a gang, mang
you can suck my w*ng, mang
richie-boy, b*tchie-boy, it’s a southwest thing
serial murderer, southwest maniac
slaughterer, lunatic, highschool brainiac
straight a school boy, school kid
’till i went to school and tried to murder everyone, the show must go on

‘aged friends are fools, all of them. totally unaware of the evilness within
the carnival
their eyes reflected stairways into h*ll, their faces covered in blood. i ran
from the
carnival grounds and yet every road and every path lead me right back to the big
tent. i
had to escape from the strongman, the freak shows, and the ringmaster ‘

come see the show, big top show
walk hand in hand with the dead carnival
dead carney, carnies, dead juggalos
walk hand in hand with the dead carnival

come see the show, big top show
walk hand in hand with the dead carnival
dead carney, carnies, dead juggalos
walk hand in hand with the dead carnival

rrrrrinnnng
‘yello?’
‘speak ta chicken neck?’
‘who?’
‘chicken neck.’
‘n*body by that name here.’
‘what about chicken balls?’
‘nope.’
‘what about chicken f*ckin’ gizzard throat, is he there?’
‘look boy, you got the wrong number.’
click

rrrrrinnnng
‘what the? h*llo?!’
‘speak ta rednuts?’
‘who?’
‘redb*lls, willie redneck balls, is he there?’
‘godd*mnit!’
click

rrrrrinnnng
‘lemme git dis! who in da h*ll is dis?!’
‘speak ta fatboy?’
‘who in da h*ll is dis?!’
‘i wanna speak ta fat redneck f*ckin’ chickenboy! is he there?’
‘godd*mnit! clickf*ckin’ no good b*st*rds!’
knock knock knock knock
‘git da d*mn door!’
‘yeah, i have a delivery for a mr. redneck fatb*lls.’
‘whut! you godd*mn little!’
machinegun shots and breaking gl*ss
‘it’s from the wicked clowns ‘

/ icp lyrics