The song lyrics were written by the band Van Halen, as they were asked to write a song for the 1979 movie "Over the Edge" starring Matt Dillon. The movie (and the lyrics, although more obliquely) are about bored, rebellious youth with nothing better to do than get into trouble. If you see the movie, these lyrics will make more sense. It's a great movie if you grew up in the 70s/80s you'll definitely remember some of these characters from your own life. Fun fact, after writing the song, Van Halen decided not to let the movie use it.
Killas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this bitch, up in this bitch
Killas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this biiiitch, blaze
G's up, ridin' from the cradle to the casket
And beyond, recognize thug shit
Poundin' out the trunk bitch
Runnin' wit' a mother fuckin' hatchet
you haters, you suck dick was a thug, became a G
B to the L to the A, Z, E, still dead
Still don't give a fuck (give a fuck)
Sportin' all black kahkis with the mother fuckin' cuffs up
Smokin' Hella trees, tryin' to make a couple G's
So a thug can get back on his feet
Mean muggin', steady thuggin'
And I'm tryin' to find the hoodrat's all about fuckin'
Still loked out
All my dawgs from the past, dead or smoked out
Still tryin' to come up on a lick for a phat ass ride
So I can drop the top, and parlay through the east side
Chorus
Niggas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this bitch, up in this bitch! x 4
Bitches freeze, you aint a thug or a G or a banga'
You's a studio gangsta
You aint about shit, scared to pull the trigga'
That's what we call, a real bitch nigga' (bitch nigga')
Sneekin' through the hood, throwin' up a set
Hangin' out the window, yellin' idol threats
Check this out, I'm a check your chin
Close your mouth, 'fore I put the barrel in
Dumpin' clips in yo ass is what I'm all about
Straight G from the clique on a paper route
Still slappin' off fake bitches with the Louiville
Beat a nigga' to the pavement, another bitch killed
Chorus
This is the battle for the planets
We bring the thunder, givin' half the advantage
Fuck a style and a status
Half of y'all hummin' off a half ass deal
And got the nerve to tell a mother fucker "keep it real"
We see through y'all fools, like cellophane on the square pack
You bite our shit, you can keep it, we don't want it back
We don't give a fuck, east side for life
And if you aint got heart, don't expect to have your shit tight
There aint no room for the hoe-hearted
We give a fuck where you at, or who you wit', or how you got started
Fuck you and everybody in yo clique
If you don't run wit' a hatchet, or claim the Psychopathic
I aint got time, to say no names
It's only 8 rhymes, no holla', we been in the game
Besides fuck it, no speakin your name
You're just a bitch in the game
And y'all niggas gone' always be the same
Chorus x8
*Hammer slide*
Juggalos up in this bitch, up in this bitch
Killas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this biiiitch, blaze
G's up, ridin' from the cradle to the casket
And beyond, recognize thug shit
Poundin' out the trunk bitch
Runnin' wit' a mother fuckin' hatchet
you haters, you suck dick was a thug, became a G
B to the L to the A, Z, E, still dead
Still don't give a fuck (give a fuck)
Sportin' all black kahkis with the mother fuckin' cuffs up
Smokin' Hella trees, tryin' to make a couple G's
So a thug can get back on his feet
Mean muggin', steady thuggin'
And I'm tryin' to find the hoodrat's all about fuckin'
Still loked out
All my dawgs from the past, dead or smoked out
Still tryin' to come up on a lick for a phat ass ride
So I can drop the top, and parlay through the east side
Chorus
Niggas kick the anthem like this
Juggalos up in this bitch, up in this bitch! x 4
Bitches freeze, you aint a thug or a G or a banga'
You's a studio gangsta
You aint about shit, scared to pull the trigga'
That's what we call, a real bitch nigga' (bitch nigga')
Sneekin' through the hood, throwin' up a set
Hangin' out the window, yellin' idol threats
Check this out, I'm a check your chin
Close your mouth, 'fore I put the barrel in
Dumpin' clips in yo ass is what I'm all about
Straight G from the clique on a paper route
Still slappin' off fake bitches with the Louiville
Beat a nigga' to the pavement, another bitch killed
Chorus
This is the battle for the planets
We bring the thunder, givin' half the advantage
Fuck a style and a status
Half of y'all hummin' off a half ass deal
And got the nerve to tell a mother fucker "keep it real"
We see through y'all fools, like cellophane on the square pack
You bite our shit, you can keep it, we don't want it back
We don't give a fuck, east side for life
And if you aint got heart, don't expect to have your shit tight
There aint no room for the hoe-hearted
We give a fuck where you at, or who you wit', or how you got started
Fuck you and everybody in yo clique
If you don't run wit' a hatchet, or claim the Psychopathic
I aint got time, to say no names
It's only 8 rhymes, no holla', we been in the game
Besides fuck it, no speakin your name
You're just a bitch in the game
And y'all niggas gone' always be the same
Chorus x8
*Hammer slide*
Lyrics submitted by kornchick
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Blaze is fucken bad ass, too bad they aint got shotgun on this site, that song is fucken bad