Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song What's That Smell, artist - House Of Pain. Album song Truth Crushed To Earth Shall Rise Again, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 21.10.1996
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Tommy Boy
Song language: English
What's That Smell |
Baby, because |
(I say, «Lord, have mercy») |
This is for all you dirty bitches out there |
Suck up on this motherfuckin' nuts |
(I say, «Lord, have mercy») |
Say stop! |
Hey, what’s that sound? |
Everybody look what’s goin' down |
I’m everlastin', forever on a roll |
I’m rockin' to the boat, steamin' gray matter tone |
I ain’t sayin' I’m God but you can graft this |
Chances are if I’m a star, I’d be Johnny Mathis |
On some smooth shit, I’d be gaming all the honeys |
Hitting Hugh Hefner with his Playboy Bunnies |
Check the Sunday funnies, I’d be reading Doonesbury |
See me after dark, love, shit be getting scary |
I’ll freak you like Carrie on the night of the prom |
Let’s keep it cool and calm, I’ll start stroking your palm |
Work my way up your arm, start kissing your ear |
Maybe, licking your lips, then pulling your hair |
Yeah, I freak the back spasm to get the orgasm |
And if my legs cramp, girl, I lick that stamp |
I got it sewn love, so you ain’t got no worries |
Hold up, wait a second, my vision’s gettin' blurry |
Stop, hey, what’s that smell |
Someone laced dust all up in my L |
Bitches start sweatin' once the pockets swell |
Let’s take it back fourteen billion cells |
Periodic measures to say my rhymes |
Too much of this dope need growth-type slow |
Off a poet’s tree, let me blow my leaves |
Shake off my roots and pull up my sleeves |
Break a branchling wist stick |
Lyrics for the mystical |
Yo fancy, shake your chancy |
Our transystem is torn MCs |
I hymn-zen, then I’m casualies |
Pot smoke-seeds, relativities |
Seize it, I be on every first ability |
Of chaos, a higher form of infinity |
Gettin' me virtually supreme ID |
Reflectors and tackers |
At which my faster phrased words |
Super-lax, break raps and MCs jump off wacks |
Revolves and steers and still sees time stilt |
I work for Real Bill Divine, it’s lyrical chill |
I say, «Stop», hey, what’s that smell? |
Someone laced dust all up in my L |
Bitches start sweatin' when the pockets swell |
Let’s take it back fourteen billion cells |
Stop, hey, what’s that smell? |
Someone laced dust all up in my L |
Bitches start sweatin' when the pockets swell |
Let’s take it back fourteen billion cells |