Feel It lyrics

Artist  : House Of Pain 
Song : Feel It



 Send "Feel It" Ringtone to your Cell 

 

Meanwhile back at the ranch we got Bo Duke and
Daisy goin' to
go see Boss Hogg. Then ya got
Kooter fixin' over them cars...

I don't
need a glock cause I'm not a hard rock
Got
bitches on my jock like New Kids On The
Block
I can't lose like Parker Lewis I'm
undefeated
Step into my sector homeboy you'll
get greeted
By the 380 colt mustang in my
pocket
I had a few drinks already don't make
me cock it
Cause if I have to cock it, well
then it's gettin' shot
And if it's gettin'
shot, well, yo, you're gettin' bucked down
I
don't fuck around, I ain't got time for
punks
But I got time to smoke all the skunk
philly blunts
Stunts gather round, check out
the sound
And let's get down to do the nasty,
freaky, funky
Stinky, junky, let's bump uglies
in the nighttime
Between the sheets
Cause I
rock fly rhymes over funky beats
The Celtic
ruin, the legion of doom
Now gimme the track,
or with the fat back doom
Now gimme some room,
and I'll explode
Cock back my hammer, then
squeeze off my load
So hit the road, Jack, and
don't come back no more
Or I'll be moppin' up
the floor with your crew of soft core
Punk
pussy bitches, jail house snitches
On stage, I
get wrecked and I collect my riches
I get the
funky style, and like Gomer Pile
You'll be
'Surprise surprise surprise!' as I
Rise to the
top, fuck a punk cop
I'm always hip-hop, only a
pimple goes pop
So you better quit, zit
I
came to rip shit
Blastin' with the Soul
Assassins
Askin' the question, teachin' the
lesson
Bringin' the West Coast back to the
East Coast
Where it all started, what're you,
retarded
You're startin' to trip from that
Jheri curl drip
Soakin' in your brain, the
House Of Pain
Is causin' pain, and feelin'
pain
So feel it

Chorus
Just feel
it
Feel it
Just feel it
C'mon y'all,
feel it

Back to the rhyme, I'm always on
time
A lime to a lemon, yo, a lemon to a
lime
I rock the old school style and it's
futile
To step up, cause you'll get swept
up
Like dust, or I just might bust and unload
my clip
Unless you're a punk, then I'll just
pop you in the lip
And show you the deal, now
how did that feel
You know I'm killin' any pig
that squeels
I'm fillin' up reels of tape with
my fly rhymes
And I've got a subsciption to
High Times
Son Dooby's in the back, the
Mexican Ralph Emms is on the track
My DJ
Lethal, he's on the cut
When I bust a dope
rhyme, it's like bustin' a nut
So let me jerk
off on the mic and get it sticky
When I drink
a brew it's either Guiness or mickeys
I'll put
your head out just like a fuckin' Malboro
Don't
fuck with me, punk, you know that I'm
thorough
Bred like a race horse,
right-in-your-face force
Feedin' you beats,
straight off the streets
So catch me catch me,
if you can
You know I'm the man like Chewbacca
knows Han
Solo, bolos are what I'll be
throwin'
When I be flowin', I get the job
done
Cause I'm number one, the Prodigal
Son
I left and I came back, but not with the
same rap
And not with the same style, I'm
known to get buckwild
The luck of the Irish
spreads like a virus
So feel it

Chorus