la guitaristic house organisation - rinôçérôse lyrics
fine malt
house of pain and the rising sun
he who breaks the law goes back to the house of pain
he who breaks the law goes back to the house of pain
i rock the ill sh-t, ya know i k!ll sh-t
and then i build sh-t, get off my dills nit
’cause i don’t play that, my style goes way back
i kick my sh-t one time, dude, f-ck the playback
i go off my head, you know i shave my sh-t
and ya don’t quit, i say you don’t quit
’cause i’m the prodigal son, ya get well done
just like a steak, gimme a break
like nel carter
there’s tarter on your t–th, homeboy ya got beef
well then ya get broke, because my crew’s no joke
the house of pain
is kickin’ up dirt and therefore inside the jam
ya know we’re liftin’ up skirts, grabbin’ on the sn-tch
feelin’ on the skin, i’m knockin’ on your door
honey let me in
’cause i’m down with the freak mo baby
i’m at my s-xual peak, young lady
ain’t n0body cooler than my man son doobie
don’t ya f-ck around, i’ll smack your knuckles with a ruler
just like a nun from a catholic school
i’ll make ya drool, and play the fool
sn-tch ya by the ears, smack ya up like a queer
take a puff off my blunt, and then sip my beer
kick the mean style, leave bodies in a pile
everlast is my name, i’m from the house of pain
you know that i never play the punk role
’cause i’m a white irish man with a funk soul
that’s what it is y’all
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
smooth like beretta, quicker than the jedi
you’re soft like a feather, you little bed wetter
baby, baby, i heard you caught the rabies
bitin’ on my sh-t, i have to say haybee
son’ll be rockin’ until tomorrow
’cause i’ve got the right on, like ray charles
follow, swallow, the funky p-ss the bottle
’cause i get recked like if i crashed my auto
i’ll play it, i’ll win it
i’ve done it, i did it
some say i’m kiddin’
but right at this minute
i’ll freak it, i’ll funk it
and like a country bumbkin
from albakerque who’s gonna carve the turkey
ready, serve, entertain like merv
griffin, sniffin’ panties, i’m a prev
the dooby funk fellow, smooth like a jello
some say mellow, complicated like a dello
the freakin’ who’s speakin’
freaks it every weekend
’cause i’ll be trick or treatin’
i used to drive a lincoln
drivin’, speedin’, hey rid, i’m readin’
i make more money than that kid alex keaton
that’s what it is y’all
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
i rip flesh, yes y’all, run for the mess hall
and get your grub while i’m rhymin’ on your dub
gettin’ play at the club, then i step to the pub
and crack a brew, what the f-ck ya gonna do? (drop it)
i rip sh-t, k!ll it, cut your gut and spill it
treat ya like a gas tank, take your -ss and fill it
and take ya for a ride to where i reside
put your face in my pillow, and have ya weepin’ like a willow
i tax that but, wax that -ss
floss a nut in your t–th, then wait for you to beef
that’s what it is y’all
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is y’all
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
that’s what it is (that’s what it is)
fine malt
house of pain and the rising sun
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