INTERESTS   

Hanging out with my husband,

MY HOBBIES INCLUDE   

Well, I've been to the storm house and then some Payed me dues but I'm still a street hoodlum Dropped out of school cuz I couldn't find my locker Stubbles on my chin, I got hair like Chewbacca Might see me sleeping on the street Don't look for a job cuz there's no jobs looking for me Then it all went to my head Next, forty-nine motherfuckers dead Tell the pigs I did it Place spot at your back And beat you in the head with it And keep your bitch in place Or I'm a send her ass home with a foot print on her face

WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU HAD 1 MILLION DOLLARS?

Uh, I'm hating sluts Shoot them in the face, steb back and itch my nuts 'Less I'm in the sac Cuz I fuck so hard it'll break they back All the pressure's packed into one nut I was waiting on a bus and my head blew up And the sight'll make ya sick Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic Psychopathic Thought you know bitch The ICP is made up of psychotic Demented psycho clumsy motherfuckers And we'll put a hook on your bumb leg Like it ain't nobody's business So I'm standing by the train tracks Then you see me running but naked with a battle axe I'm swinging and slicing and chopping and cutting and.. Aah, until I'm nothing

NAME SOME QUALITIES YOU LOOK FOR IN A PARTNER

Seems like I always get beat down Like the hawk turned to the wicked clown Tail turned out to the ghetto cuz Southwest Detriot is comended one's home So you might see me at a festival Cussin', rude, and scratching my testicles With a cold two-liter in hand Rapping to the bitch at the french fry stand Take it to the Patent Park Then I'll make a sexist remark Cuz they're all eventually bitching Serve me fucking take your ass to the kitchen Police don't like me it's obvious Just don't look in the trunk Or the sight'll make you sick Violent J, motherfucker, psychopathic

WHAT ARE YOUR FUTURE GOALS?

Yeah, I've always been a psycho Psycho-psycho-sick-psycho-sick-psycho-psycho I'll throw rocks at stray dogs Build crackhouses out of Lincoln logs I cut class, said I was a faker You was in school, I was home watching Green Acres Now I'm all up in your face You can barely hear the rap with all that bass I'm running with a southwest street gang And I never let my southwest meat hang Cuz you know what ICP's all about Take a brick off the street And bust you in the mouth Find the girl's daddy's rich And his sweet little angel's my sewer freak bitch But I filled the turkey up with the stuffing Like Billy Bill say, "a bitch ain't nothing"

FAVOURITE QUOTE

All of the above

FINAL WORDS

I LOveeeeeeyyyyou