| I got the skills to pay the bills
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| I don’t pop pills but I send chills
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| Up your spine when I rhyme
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| I get wicked, you got a booger, pick it Sippin’on the fourty, ya know it makes me horny
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| Spread them legs, grab my axe
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| Fire up the grill and crack the kegs
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| Nobody fear, the party’s here
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| Everlast is comin', the funky drummer’s drummin'
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| Ya only came backstage to make the front page
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| To get me locked up, or get yourself knocked up But I ain’t with it, even if I did it I got a hundred homeboys to say I didn’t hit it My name’s Everlast, I got the funky rhymes
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| I make more papers than the LA Times
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| I don’t do lines, but I puff blunts
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| I don’t rock fronts, but I stuff stunts
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| Fill 'em to the brim like a cup of coffee
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| If ya don’t know me, homey, back up off me Cause I ain’t soft, see, I’ll fly ahead
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| You wind up dead, you made your bed
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| Now ya gotta lie in it, don’t bother tryin’it
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| Take my advice, homeboy, think twice
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| Before you step up, step back
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| Or catch a smack, guess who’s back
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| (He's back) Guess who’s back (Everybody's in the street) (4x)
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| (He's back) (Everybody's in the street) (3x)
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| (He's back) (2x)
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| He’s back from the dead, with the shaved head
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| Don’t start to trip, dip, I brought my lead
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| Just in case you wanna fuck around
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| I’ll stare ya dead in the face, and then I’ll buck ya down
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| I’ll put ya six feet deep, some say talk’s cheap
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| But I make big bucks servin’up punk ducks
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| By the pound, I got the sound
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| I never been checked, I only get wrecked
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| I kick the willy drag, let my pants sag
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| Don’t give up the booty, cause I ain’t no fag
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| Checkin’out checkit, I’m prone to wreck shit
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| If ya dig this joint, check the next shit
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| I’m Everlast and it’s a natural fact
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| That the white man is back
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| I’ll eat you up like some butter cups from Reese’s
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| I come in peace, but you’ll leave in pieces
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| That’s how I’m livin', that’s how it goes
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| Everyday I’m sleepin', every night I’m doin’shows
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| Always gettin’hoes when there’s hoes to get got
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| Always wear my hat so I never need a shot
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| Always drink a beer before I write a rhyme
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| And if I have to drive I avoid the one time
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| Stay between the lines and I won’t get pulled over
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| I don’t need luck cause I got a four leaf clover
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| Yea I’m Irish, word to the motherland
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| But on the otherhand
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| I love America, apple pie, mom and all that
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| My pockets stay phat, step the fuck back
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| Play me close and you catch a mean dose
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| Of my fist, homeboy you get dissed |