House Of Pain - Fed Up (remix W, Guru) Lyrics

I say brothers are amused by other brothers reps But they're all playing roles just like Omar Epps I see so many players I wonder where the coach is My name's Everlast I'm hard to kill like roaches The dough that you're making has got you fronting and faking Your heart's been shook your brain's cooked like bacon Can't believe you're not butter you thought you was on it Out trying to flaunt it but it's just Blue Bonnet And now it's my turn kid watch me churn There's only so many spots they're had to earn Pack it up pack it in So let me begin Don't make me have to smack your dumb ass into a head spin You're left in suspense from the aura of my presence Trying to get props under false pretense You wanna say something but you're not sure If I'm a dis ya cause you're not pure Like the cheap version that gets cut with baking soda If you had game you still couldn't get over I know your crew's gotta be crazy weak Cause I can judge them by the company they keep Way deep is how I get into this rap thing While you're napping I got your chick's titties flapping She's asking for me to hit her off lovely I'm a slay all you punks like as if I was ... When you sell out to appeal to the masses You have to go back and enroll in some classes All you curve pieces start shaking your asses All you blunt holders take two pulls and pass it Back in '89 I dropped too much acid Rock from Lake Habasoo out to Lake Placid While you busy ragging on the people you blasted I'm asking how many days have you fasted Chorus Get up I'll break ya down a little something I'm fed up it's time to go head hunting Dead up too many crews be fronting I'm fed up it's time to go head hunting Get up I'll break ya down a little something I'm fed up it's time to go head hunting Dead up too many crews be fronting I'm fed up it's time to go head hunting Hey what's that sound don't turn around To your back I got the grey ground Hard for you chumps that act odd The ones faking jacks packing guns acting hard But let's suppose you really had a burner You would still need some lessons on how to hold it firmer Fuck a murder I'm a just kill your ego Cause we know that you ain't really got no people Murdering a prop my man this my homey that You need to get the fuck out my face cause you don't know me jack Eeny meeny miney moe I put seeds in your mental and I watch em grow Turn on the instrument and then clock my flow Put the dough in my pocket and I rock the show Cause I know and you this is how we go Somalaku to the Muslim Shalom to the Hebrew Geed lust envy sloth gluttony pride and wrath do the math These seven deadly sins represent my jinn You scheming on testing me kid where you been I been told all my life I'm my only friend There's a killer on the road money it's the end And you might think that I'm a dummy But while you're out at the spot I'm home chilling with your honey I kicks flavor Like Steven King I write the horror If you wanna see tomorrow when I lead you're best to follow Or you'll be left along the road in the dust And me and you won't have too much to discuss Trust me I be the gifted unlimited Too many of these rappers blowing up because of Guinness kid You ain't did the bid you ain't never pulled the trigger You battle me I make you stagger more than liquor I get raw I'm quickdraw the outlaw I dealt ya'll Ready to fuck with me so boy you better stop Cause I'm a beat your ass like your pops Get the real estate money and then the props Chorus Lyrics submitted by: mikE'97 House Of Pain Lyrics Fed Up (remix W, Guru) Lyrics