"Ooo, I like this toy. Watch it go. Uw...wait!" [gunshots]
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"We're sorry the person you are calling is dead"
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[Violent J]
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I was like six, I used to get dissed by the chicks
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And everyone would chase me and hit me with bricks
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And rocks and sticks and calling me names
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And filled my lunchbox with frogbrains (eeww!)
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When I left school, it was much iller
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My daddy was a serial killer
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And how about that, he'd always make me sit in the back
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With all his dead bodies on my lap (move!)
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When I got home, enough of the static
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Hammer and tools, went up to the attic
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Never knew any other girls or boys
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Only my toys, toys, toys
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Bang! Clang! Hammer and twist
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Nobody knows I exist, and I'm pissed
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But I won't be mentally scarred
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Instead I make toys, toys of the graveyard
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Monday, ringing the bell
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It's all about show and tell, might as well
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Show all these bastards just what I got
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Yo, check out my toy box!
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"Nothing feels better than a good harty-harr, right boys and girls"
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[Violent J]
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We got dead bodies everywhere you look
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All the nerds sitting up front got cooked
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Others start screaming and making a dash
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So I start handing out toys fast at last
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You like slinkies, we got slinkies
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Only mine like to wrap around your face
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And stretch, twist, kazoom
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And whip your body all over the fuckin room
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So come, one at a time
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Open your gift and what you will find
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Is a toy, my friend, that you'll never forget
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It's not everyday that you get your skull split
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You like soldiers, we got soldiers
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Made with rubber and steel, they look real
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But I wouldn't just toss em under your bed
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That's how you get an axe to the forehead (oww)
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And don't let em sit around all day
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Come home and find you mom, dead in the hallway
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Cuz they can be nifty
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All the toys are shifty, haha, in my toy box
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"Woooowee, that sure sounds like fun!"
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[Violent J]
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That's not a toy, hey, wait a minute
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Don't fuck around, homie, you can lose an eye with it
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That's my double blade razor whip chop jimmy
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And it's mine, motherfucker, so gimme gimme
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You want toys, you come to the right place
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Try my little toy, Mutilating Mental Case
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Wind him up, let him go among all of ya
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Then BANG! serial slaughterer
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Your turn, reach in and get lucky
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Oh look, he pulled out a rubber ducky
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It make a funny sound and then BANG!
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Blew the fingers off his fuckin hand
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Don't stop, class ain't done yet
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I remember you calling me poindexter
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Bookworm brainy, my aggrevation
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Went into these little creations
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Reach in, you might find something wicked
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Wicked, scary, chop bang pickadery
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Off with your head, a robot with a sword
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But now he's looking at me, but what for?
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"Eh, wait a minute, I made you
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Get them, not me. Eh, wait a minute, motherfucker."
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"Oh, I love this record."
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-----------------
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Toy Box
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ICP (Insane Clown Posse) |