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| lyricsinger.com >> I Lyrics >> ICP (Insane Clown Posse) Lyrics >> Chicken Huntin Lyrics | |
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ICP (Insane Clown Posse) - Chicken Huntin Lyrics Well, I'm heading down a southern trail, I'm going chicken huntin' Chopping redneck chicken necks I ain't saying nothing To the hillbilly stuck my barrel in his eye Boomshacka boomshacka hair jumps in the sky Why I never liked chicken pot pie? Or the chopped chicken on rye? So tell Mr. Billy Bob I'm a cut his neck up Slice, poke, chop chop, stab, cut What can you do with the drunken hillbilly Cut his fucking eyes out and feed em to his Aunt Milly Willy Willy chicken neck, chicken hunting gotta love it Hit him with the twelve gauge bucket, chicken nuggets Laid out all over the grass Then his little hound dog will eat em up fast Last as long as you can my man Cuz when that chicken head hits the fan, you got Blood guts fingers and toes (3x) Sittin front row at the chicken show so... Who's going chicken huntin, we's goin' chicken huntin' (3x) Cut a motherfucking chicken up, right! Let me get a chicken sandwich with manwich I'm finna wreck on a chicken neck Chopping up Hilly and Billy Bob Billy Cuz I chop motherfucking redneck silly Peeked in his yard and what did I see I seen a chicken boy fucking a sheep I say "Mister Mister, what the fuck you trying to do" "a binny binny, binny boo" Barrels in your mouth, bullets to your head The back of your neck's all over the shed Boomshacka boom chop chop bang I'm 2 Dope and it ain't no thang To cut a chicken, trigger's clickin Blow off his head but his feet still kickin Last as long as you can my man Cuz when that chicken head hits the fan you got Blood guts fingers and toes (3x) Sittin front row at the chicken show so... Who's going chicken huntin, we's goin' chicken huntin' (3x) Cut a motherfucking chicken up, right! Went to Kentucky, I got lucky Met this hot-collared bitch named Bucky Riding on a chicken, milking a cow Hittin switches in a drop top low ride tractor plow Redneck fella, moonshine sella Hang him by his neckbones, chicken bones Locked in the cellar, yellow belly chicken plucker You redneck fucker! Who's going chicken huntin, we's goin' chicken huntin' (3x) Cut a motherfucking chicken up, right! ICP (Insane Clown Posse) - Chicken Huntin Lyrics Well I'm headed down the southern trail, I'm goin' Chicken huntin'. Choppin' red neck chicken necks I ain't sayin' nothin' To the hillbilly, stick my barrel in his eye, boom-shaka, boom-shaka, Hair chunks in the sky. Why? I, never liked chicken pot pie or the chopped chicken on rye. Tell Mr. Billy Bob I'm a cut his neck up Slice, poke, chop-chop, stab, cut. "What can you do with a drunken hillbilly?" Cut his fuckin' eyes out, and feed 'em to his Aunt Nilly. Willie, Willie Chicken neck. Chicken huntin' gotta love it. Hit him with the 12 gauge bucket, Chicken nuggets. Layed out all over the grass. Bet his little hound dog'll eat 'em up fast. (Pre-Chorus): Last as long as you can, my man, Cuz when that chicken head hits the fan you got: Blood, Guts, Fingers and Toes. (w/ echoes) Blood, Guts, Fingers and Toes. (w/ echoes) Blood, Guts, Fingers and Toes. (w/ echoes) Sittin' front row at the chicken show, so... (End prechorus) (Chorus): "Who's goin' chicken huntin?" "We's goin' chicken huntin'." "Who's goin' chicken huntin?" "We's goin' chicken huntin'." "Who's goin' chicken huntin?" "We's goin' chicken huntin'." "Cut a motherfuckin' chicken up, " "Right!" (Chorus) Lemme get a chicken sandwich, with manwich, ah, Feel the red on a Chicken neck. Choppin up hella yeah, Billy bob Billy Cuz I chop motherfuckin' red necks silly. Peeped in your yard tell me what did I see? I seen a chicken boy, fuckin' this sheep. I said, "Mister, mister, What the fuck you tryin' to do?" Badau-bad-a-badau-badau-bau Barrels in your mouth, bullets to your head, The back of your neck's all over the shed. Boom-shaka-boom, chop, chop, bang, I'm 2 Dope, and it ain't no thing To cut a chicken, triggers clickin' Blow off his head but his feet still kickin' (Pre-Chorus) (Chorus) Went to Kentucky, I got lucky, Met this hogcallin' bitch named Blocky. Ridin' on a chicken, milkin' a sow. Hittin' switches in a drop-top, low-ride tractor. Wow. Red neck fella, moon-shine sella, Hangin' by his neck bone. Chicken bone's locked in the cella', Yella' bellied chicken plucka'. You red neck fucka! (Chorus) Rich bitch! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Ha ha ha ha ha! UH! (echo) Interview "Hello! How ya doin? I'm here with the Insane Clown Posse, ICP. How you guys doin?" "Bblblblblblblbl!!" "Well, uh, ok... I understand that you guys are from Detroit." "Wwaaaaaaaahh!" "Uh, yeah, ok. Why don't ah- Why don't you tell us something about the group?" "BURRRRRRP!" "Awright, Awright... Any long term goals?" "Ayayaiyaiyaiyaiyai!" "Sure, yeah, yeah... How 'bout ah, solo projects? Any solo stuff to look forward to?" "HA! ha ha-ha!" "Well... well, ok, ok. Well, ah, thanks for coming by and, ah, we look forward to seeing you again, uhu. Thanks a lot! Bye-bye!" |
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