| I rock the ill shit, ya know I kill shit
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| And then I build shit, get off my dillsnick
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| Cause I don’t play that, my style goes way back
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| I kick my shit one time through, fuck the playback
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| I go off my head, you know I shave my shit
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| And ya don’t quit, I say you don’t quit
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| Cause I’m the Prodigal Son
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| Ya get well done, just like a steak
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| 'Gimme a Break! |
| Like Nell Carter
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| There’s tarter on your teeth, homeboy ya got beef
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| Well then ya get broke, because my crew’s no joke
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| The House Of Pain
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| Is kickin' up dirt and therefore inside the jam
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| Ya know we’re liftin' up skirts, grabbin' on the snatch
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| Feelin' on the skin, I’m knockin' on your door
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| Honey let me in
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| Cause I’m down with the «Freak Mode» baby
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| I’m at my sexual peak, young lady
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| Ain’t nobody cooler than my man Son Dueler
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| Don’t ya fuck around, I’ll smack your knuckles with a ruler
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| Just like a nun from a Catholic school
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| I’ll make ya drool, and play the fool
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| Snatch ya by the ears, smack ya up like a queer
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| Take a puff off my blunt, and then sip my beer
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| Kick the mean style, leave bodies in a pile
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| Everlast is my name, I’m from the House Of Pain
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| You know that I never play the punk role
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| Cause I’m a white Irish man with a funk soul
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| That’s what it is y’all, that’s what it is (That's what it is)
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| Smooth like Beretta, quicker than a Jettta
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| You’re soft like a feather, you little bed wetter
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| Baby, baby, I heard you caught the rabies
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| Bitin' on my shit, I have to say maybe
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| Son’ll be rockin' until tomorrow
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| Cause I’ve got the right one, like Ray Charles
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| Follow, swallow, the funk pass the bottle
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| Cause I get wrecked like if I crashed my auto
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| I’ll play it, I’ll win it
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| I’ve done it, I did it
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| Some say I’m kiddin'
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| But right at this minute
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| I’ll freak it, I’ll funk it
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| And like a country bumpkin
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| From Alberquerque, who’s gonna carve the turkey
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| Ready, serve, entertain like Merv
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| Griffin, sniffin' panties, I’m a perv
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| The Doobie funk fellow, smooth like a jello
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| Some say mellow, complicated like a dello
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| The freakin' who’s speakin'
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| Freaks it every weekend
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| Cause I’ll be trick or treatin'
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| I used to drive a Lincoln
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| Drivin', speedin', hey rid, I’m readin'
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| I make more money than that kid Alex Keaton
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| I rip flesh, yes y’all, run for the mess hall
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| And get your grub while I’m rhymin' on your dub
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| Gettin' play at the club, then I step to the pub
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| And crack a brew, what the fuck ya gonna do? |
| (Nothing)
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| I rip shit, kill it, cut your gut and spill it
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| Treat ya like a gas tank, take your ass and fill it
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| And take ya for a ride to where I reside
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| Put your face in my pillow, and have ya weepin' like a willow
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| I tax that butt, wax that ass
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| Bust a nut in your teeth, then wait for you to beef |