Sittin down in my crackhouse, earnin my pay It's the Southwest Jugglette claimin' Del Ray I'm known by the gang squad and police alike I'm known to get wrong off the get right Hangin' out the truck I blow the moss burg off I'll blow yo boss shirt off I'll be the top dawg killa You're soft like a Bon-Bon in you're Sean John I'm ridin' durrtay up and down a Ford Escort I'm in a re-mastered gold super-sport I hit the top on up like I I cut back to the cut to get a cut of my cut 'Cause even in a hurricane a crack-head'll show up Gay-fag slayer, bag-weighter With a sweet street-sweep AK But it's gettin' kinda windy and the walls are shakin Fuckin' roof's comin' off i'm in a lazy-boy bakin' I see the crack-heads try to reach the porch But the wind sweep 'em off before they get to the door Grab somethin' held down cause you're lookin' funny flyin' around Shudders are shakin and the lightnin' is frightenin' Fuckin' windows are breakin' Man, i'm thinkin' it might be a tornado Go to the door open it up... All the same back to my game As long as that motha fucka stay outside HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPELATIN'?! The whole house spinnin' and shakin' Damn near breakin' in half I take it and laugh cause what the fuck can i do? I put the rocks in my socks so i don't loose them too Somehow my game's still good, chillen on pause We airborne and in the windows flayin' past by are crack-heads Wavin' at me STILL tryin' to buy Mail boxes, a pizza man, some garbage cans, then i seen a naked, ass-bitch Like There was all kinda crazy shit caught in the storm But before long, all the shit was gone... More from Insane Clown Posse