| Ya see I’m Irish, but I’m not a leprechaun
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| You wanna fight, then step up and we’ll get it on
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| You’ll get a right to the grill, I’m white and I ill
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| A decendant of Dublin with titanic skill
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| I ducked and I swing, next thing your jaw’s broken
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| Punk I ain’t jokin', you can bet you’ll be chokin'
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| On a fist full of nuttin, meanwhile I’ll be puffin'
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| On a fat blunt, what punk? |
| You don’t know the half
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| Tryin' to talk shit, man, please don’t make me laugh
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| These Irish eyes are smilin', I’m buckwhylin'
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| The House of Pain is pumpin', start jumpin'
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| Freak it, funk it, back seat trunk it
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| If you can’t get with it, you’ll wind up sweatin' it
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| Then you’ll get a beatin' just like an egg
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| It’s so hard to run when you got a broken leg
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| But we can have a run off, the House of Pain’ll come off
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| We got the cake that you’re tryin to get a crumb off
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| The Irish stylee, the Celtic jazz
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| No one has it, just us, that’s it
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| If you try to take it, I got a big shillelagh
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| I don’t have dreads cause I shave my head daily
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| You call me a skinhead, I call you a pin head
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| Yo, where you been man, just like the Tin Man
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| You got no heart, here comes the good part
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| I pick 'em, buck 'em, cut 'em up, and buck 'em down
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| No fuckin' around, homeboy ya get clowned like Krusty
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| Trust me, you shouldn’t play. |
| and by the way
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| Top o' the mornin to ya. |
| «What's the hassle man?»
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| Top o' the mornin to ya. |
| «What's the hassle man?»
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| Top o' the mornin to ya. |
| «What's the hassle man?»
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| Top o' the mornin to ya.
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| «Hey, are you givin us a hassle man?»
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| Greetings, salutations
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| Peace to the Nations of Zulu and Islam
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| Crack a bottle, rev the throttle
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| Put the gear in, now you’re steerin'
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| Like Mario Andretti, so let me kick it
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| Cause I can make a wicked noise like a cricket
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| Rubbin' his legs, my rhymes are like eggs
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| Allah’ll keep layin' em, I’ll keep sayin' em
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| This is the House of Pain, we’re far from plain
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| But we’re not fancy, Ron and Nancy
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| So «Just Say No,» but I say go
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| Straight to Hell, I kiss and tell
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| So if you’re a ho, all my friends know
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| What you gotta say? |
| Let’s hit the hay
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| And have no delay, and yo, by the way.
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| Extra extra, read all about it
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| How could ya doubt it? |
| Now scream and shout it!
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| The House of Pain, soon will reign
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| Over the Hip-Hop scene in white gold and green
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| I rip shit and backflip like a Jedi
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| I roll with the groove and I’m smooth and you can bet I
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| Come correct and get respect when I’m flowin'
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| Collectin' my dough, I got you’re girlfriend hoein
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| And how do I know that she’s sprung?
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| I know she’s sprung cause yo, the D’s hung. |
| like a
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| Shetland pony, gettin' paid like Sony
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| So never ever try to play me out like a phony
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| Cause I can get real thick like a bowl of Malt-O-Meal
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| And by the way. |