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Chicken Huntin' (slaughterhouse Mix) Lyrics

from The Riddle Box

"Chicken Huntin' (slaughterhouse Mix)" is track #8 on the album The Riddle Box. It was written by Bruce, Joseph / Clark, Mike E. / Niles, Marc / Greenberg, David.
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"Chicken Huntin' (slaughterhouse Mix)" is track #8 on the album The Riddle Box. It was written by Bruce, Joseph / Clark, Mike E. / Niles, Marc / Greenberg, David.
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Chicken Huntin' (slaughterhouse Mix) Submit Correct Lyrics

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Well, I'm headed down the southern trail, I'm goin' chicken huntin'
Choppin' red neck chicken necks, I ain't sayin' nothin'
To the hillbilly, stick my barrel in his eye
Boom-shaka, boom-shaka hair chunks in the sky

Why I, never liked chicken pot pie
Or the chopped chicken on rye?
Tell Mr. Billy Bob, I'm a cut his neck up
Slice, poke, chop-chop, stab cut

"What can you do with a drunken hillbilly?"
Cut his fuckin' eyes out, and feed 'em to his aunt Nilly
Willie, willie chicken neck, chicken huntin' gotta love it
Hit him with the 12 gauge bucket, chicken nuggets

Layed out all over the grass
Bet his little hound dog'll eat 'em up fast
Last as long as you can, my man
'Cuz when that chicken head hits the fan you got

Blood, guts, fingers and toes
Blood, guts, fingers and toes
Blood, guts, fingers and toes
Sittin' front row at the chicken show, so

Who's goin' chicken huntin?
(We's goin' chicken huntin')
Who's goin' chicken huntin?
(We's goin' chicken huntin')
Who's goin' chicken huntin?
(We's goin' chicken huntin')
Cut a motherfuckin' chicken up
Right

Lemme get a chicken sandwich, with manwich, ah
Feel the red on a chicken neck
Choppin' up hella yeah, Billy Bob Billy
'Cuz I chop motherfuckin' red necks silly

Peeped in your yard tell me what did I see?
I seen the chicken boy, fuckin' this sheep, I said
"Mister, Mister, what the fuck you tryin' to do?"
Badau-bad-a-badau-badau-bau

Barrels in your mouth, bullets to your head
The back to your neck's all over the shed
Boom-shaka-boom, chop, chop, bang
I'm 2 dope, and it ain't no thing

To cut a chicken, triggers clickin'
Blow off his head but his feet still kickin'
Last as long as you can, my man
'Cuz when that chicken head hits the fan you got

Blood, guts, fingers and toes
Blood, guts, fingers and toes
Blood, guts, fingers and toes
Sittin' front row at the chicken show, so

Who's goin' chicken huntin?
(We's goin' chicken huntin')
Who's goin' chicken huntin?
(We's goin' chicken huntin')
Who's goin' chicken huntin?
(We's goin' chicken huntin')
Cut a motherfuckin' chicken up
Right

Rich bitch
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Ha ha ha ha ha
Uh

Songwriters
BRUCE, JOSEPH / CLARK, MIKE E. / NILES, MARC / GREENBERG, DAVID

Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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