My Funhouse Lyrics - The Ringmaster - Insane Clown Posse

Rich boy's in trouble 

Car broke down on a drive through the ghetto 

All the weird people, you gotta get the fuck 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 faggot ass 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 fuck 

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 fuck next to ya is trying to tell ya somethin' 

Listen close, you can barely make it out 

"Bitch, you ain't shit 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" 

"Bitch, fuck you, yeah, know what I'm saying 

Wicked clowns running the funhouse 

Ain't no way to get out until the killer 

Gets your neck cut like a man" 

Pick a card, any card, any motherfucking card, a joker's card 

Sorry, bitch, the luck of the draw 

Violent J's gonna have to ice your jaw 

Snap, bang, snip, boom 

Send that motherfucker 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, bitch, everything's funny 

You act like whipping on your ass, 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 fuckin' 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 ass and I throw you out 

'cause I don't need your dead body stinkin' up my funhouse 

Funhouse, stinkin' up my funhaugh