Smoke a square and then prepare yourself.
Monoxide, monox-boogie, mo diddy mo somthin. Smoke somthin,
smoke a square bitch. Me and Violent J.
I’m the wickedest of wicked and by far I’m destined for greatness,
killin off you people who hate this.
Now you can wait to sing the top notch mag or book,
and we stil gon give you fags a look.
Bitch boy I’m gay bashin, consume my gun,
I never hated fags till I got sued by one.
My mental picture is paintin me something ugly
and I still don’t understand how my hands got all bloody.

It’s the Juggla. A Juggalo role model.
I stab people in the neck with a broken beer bottle.
And then you meet me and expect a nice guy,
you’re lucky I aint stuck a screwdriver in your eye yet.
Houndogs, when I sign an autograph,
I see you chopped up in my tub soakin in a blood bath,
with demons pissin on ya like “rock the dead!”.
oh shit thoughts in my head.

I’m getting blew the fuck out, with my homie Violent J
and we don’t give a fuck bout nothing you bitches say.
We speak the word of the unheard and mystified
and when you see us huggin momma give her a kiss goodbye.
It’s a long dark ride where you goin and ain’t no huggin back.
I’m the reaper in this bitch and ain’t no comin back.
My tounge in fact can seal the casket
and spit some shit so off the R.I.P. it’s a classic.

Shut the fuck up when we speakin, biatch,
I guess your momma never taught you shit.
We stab individuals in they fatal spot.
You got 9 lives well I got 10 shots.
I remember when we first got started,
clown paint and Faygo, you though we was retarded,
finally got you in the front row, wild,
now I go and do it again with Zug Izland.

Im'a axe toter, Uz'a deepthroater
wouldn’t know a juggalo if I showed ya.
Shadow this, my reflection still cast,
a demon with green ounce behind stained glass.
I see spirits and I talk to people that ain’t there,
they seem to vanish in thin air.
Why don’t ya, get ghost homie, raise up,
while me and Violent J roll the weed and blaze it up (what!)

Real ass juggalos is I care about,
fuck everybody else and I don’t wanna hear about
and I don’t give a fuck if you know someone that’s down,
I’ll grab you by your neck and fling your fuckin head around.
I sign nothing, fuck takin a picture, fuck shakin you hand,
I’ll pull you at me and hit ya,
then I kick your fuckin guts in until your ribs break.
There’s you’re mother fuckin handshake
bitch.


Lyrics submitted by MyAntiDrugIsSuicide

Leff Field song meanings
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