Lyrics Insane Clown Posse – Scrubstitute Teachers

Text:

*gunshot*
I let one fly in the class I’m teachin’
Shut the fuck up when the Duke is speakin’
I don’t give detention on the weekend

You give me shit, I’m handin’ out beatin’s
I ain’t afraid to get hands on with that ass
Split your little fat-ass wig in class
Don’t push me, kid. Take your fuckin’ seat
And less proceed. Who got the weed?
What do you normally do with Mr. Duncan?
(Science) Well he ain’t here, so fuck him
You bitch, how old are them titties?
Damn, too young. Egg foo young
Now, you can shoot dice in the back, but
Any money exchange, I needs my cut
The rest of y’all, eyes to the front
I show you how to juggle while rolling a blunt

Listen up, class
(School us on real shit)
Now, listen up, class
(We want it, that real)
Listen up, class
(School us on real shit)
Now, listen up, class
(We want it, hey. We want it, hey)

It’s Willie. What to do?
I’m your mother fuckin’ substitute
I got a headache and just wrecked my truck
So shut yo’ asses up
Let me school you on some real shit

J. Edgar Hoover used to suck dick
Elvis Presley put coke up his nose
And Martin Luther King had a couple o’ hoes
The school board, I can’t call it
Half of ’em on drugs. The rest are alcoholics
I don’t know why you study so hard
Ain’t no fuckin’ jobs
I can
?
What’s the problem, slick
Before I sleep in the park, I’ma rob a bitch
I got the guns and some bullets that are hooded, G
I wish a mother fucker would try to bully me

Listen up, class
(School us on real shit)
Now, listen up, class
(We want it, that real)
Listen up, class
(School us on real shit)
Now, listen up, class
(We want it, hey. We want it, hey)

I’ve written my name on the chalkboard:
«The Southwest Strangla, Underground Lord»
If you run your mouth or don’t do what you’re told
Straight the fuck up, I’ll knock you out cold
Leave you on the floor unconscious
To remind anybody else who want shit
Some of you hoes look good. I said it
See me after class for extra credit
?
in my Thermos mug
Straight A’s for slackers and skippin’ scrubs
Today’s assignment: How to cook meth
Cheerleader team comin’ home with dick breath
History is all lies. Fuck sports
In your letterman coat, you’re nothin’ but dorks
Tell your mom it’s time for parent-teacher
I’ll bend her over the teacher, like «Uh!»

Listen up, class
(School us on real shit)
Now, listen up, class
(We want it, that real)
Listen up, class
(School us on real shit)
Now, listen up, class
(We want it, hey. We want it, hey)

What up, class? I’m your scrubstitute
And I’m ’bout to teach you how to make that loot
There’s 28 grams in an ounce o’ weed
And at a dime a piece, that’s 280
?
Just get your homie’s name, and it’s back on the streets
*ring* Well, that’s the bell
I’m on work release, so I’m headed back to jail
Got a way of corruptin’ the misfits
So I’m spreadin’ out to many different school districts
After the scrubstitute’s done takin’ attendance
Tell ’em put they hands on they desk and empty they pockets
Lesson one: Anyone can get got
Screw ya, how to flip a no and cut a key. Don’t get shot
Pay attention to the teacher, and you practice your homework
Tomorrow’s lesson is robbin’ a bank and pimpin’ a skirt