[Intro] [record scratch, high-pitched synth slide] Yeah, I like this toy. Watch it go. [distorted guitar riff, heavy drums] Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Sorry, the person you are calling is dead. [turntable scratching] [Verse 1] [rapping vocals, slap bass] Turn it up! It was grade six, I used to get dissed by the chicks The toughs would all chase me and hit me with bricks And rocks and sticks, call me bad names And fill my fucking locker with pig brains Ugh! When I left school life was much chiller My daddy was a serial killer So how about that? He always made me sit in the back With all his dead bodies in my lap. Cool! When I got home, escape from the dramatic Hammer and tools, he jumped from the attic Never knew any other girls or boys Nature of my toys, toys, toys! [Chorus] [melodic singing, heavy distorted guitars] Bang, grind, hammer and twist Nobody cares I exist And I'm pissed, but I won't be mentally scarred Instead I make toys, toys of the graveyard Monday, ring of the bell I'm ready for show and tell Might as well show all of these bastards just what I got Yo, check out my toy box [turntable scratching] [Verse 2] Nothing feels better than a good hearty har-har, right boys and girls? [maniacal laughter] Right boys and girls? Now there's dead bodies everywhere you look All the folks sitting up front got cooked Others start screaming and making a dash So I start handing out toys fast at last You like Slinkys? I got your Slinkys Only mine like to wrap around your face then stretch, twist, kazoom And shred your body all over the fucking room So come get in a line, pick out a box and what you will find Is a toy, my friend, that you'll never forget It's not every day that you get your skull split You like soldiers? Check these soldiers made with rubber and steel Looking real, but I wouldn't just toss them under your bed That's how you get an axe in your forehead Don't let them sit around while you're gone all day Come home and find your dog dead in the hallway They're all a little shifty, all my toys are nifty In my toy box [Bridge] [distorted screaming] That one's not a toy, motherfucker, wait a minute Don't fuck around bitch, you are losing an eye with it As my double-blade razor whip chop-a-dilly And it's mine motherfucker, be acting silly You want toys? You come to the right place Try my little toy mutilate mental case Wind them up and let them go among all of ya Slice, chop, hack, cut, serial slaughterer Your turn, reach in and get lucky You pulled out the bright pink rubber ducky It makes a squeaky sound, man, then bang! Off the fingers of his fucking hand! [Outro] Yo bitch, class ain't done yet I remember the names, bruises and emotional debt Dark intentions went into these creations Hansel, you might grab something wicked Wicked, scary, I chop-a-pick-a-derry I offed the head of a robot with a sword, he's hacking you up But what for? Take a minute, think You made a motherfucker! [screamed] Now they gonna get you! [screamed] They gonna get you motherfucker! I love this record! [repeated with heavy guitar and turntable scratches] Turn it up! I love this record! Turn it off!
