| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 3:36 | 
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Pack it up, pack it in, let me begin,
I came to win, battle me that′s a sin. I won′t tear my sack up, punk you better back up, try an play the role, and the whole crew will act up Get up, stand up, c′mon put your hands up, if you got the feelin, jump across the ceiling. Muggs let the funk flow, someone′s talkin junk yo, I bust em in the eye, then I take the punks ho Feelin, funkin, amps in the trunk and I got more ryhmes than the cop′s at a Dunkin, donut shop, sure enough I got props from the kids on the hill, and my mom and my pops I came to get down, I came to get down, so get out your seat and jump around Jump Around 3x Jump up, Jump up and get down Jump (chant 17x) I′ll serve your ass like John Mchenroe, if your girl steps up I′m smackin the ho. Word to your moms, I came to drop bombs, I got more ryhmes than a bibles got psalms. And just like the botical son I return, anyone steppin to me you′ll get burned Cause I got lyrics which you ain′t got none, if ya come to battle, bring a shotgun But if ya do your a fool cause i do to the death, tryin to step to me you take your last breath. I got the skill, come get your feel, cause when I shoot, I shoot to kill. I came to get down, I came to get down, so get out your seat and jump around. (Chorus) I′m the cream of the crop, I rise to the top, I never eat the pig, cause the pig is a cop Or better yet a terminator, like Arnold Shwrezeneger, trying to play me out as if my name was zeger. But I ain′t goin out like no punk bitch, get used to one style, yo and I might switch it up up and around then buck buck get down, put out your head then you wake up in the dawn of the day. I′m comin to get ya, I′m comin to get ya, spittin out lyrics, homie I′m with ya. I came to get down, I came to get down, so get out your seat and jump around. (Chorus) |
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| 2. |
| 3:39 |
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I kicks the flava, like Steven King writes horror
If I was a Jew then I'd light a menorah I got rhymes for ya, excuse me senora Are you a hore or are you a lady? Is it Erica Boyare or Marcia Brady? Let me know hon, the deed'll get done Just assume the position, I'll take my rod And then I'll go fishin', I'll get your river flowin' When it comes to givin' pleasure, I'm every woman's treasure I came to work your body, so let me do my job I've never been laid off, my rhymin' skill paid off Cause now I'm makin' records, now I'm makin' tapes Steady bustin' suckers in bunches like grapes Makin' all the papes, scoopin' up the loot Puttin' suckers on the run, pull my gun and then I shoot I never been a front, I never a fraud I gotta natural skill, for that I thank the Lord Cause I feel blessed, I'm casually dressed I always got my gun, but I never wear a vest I'm quick on the draw like the horse named McGraw From the cartoon boom sha lock lock boom Chorus (boom sha lock lock boom) All right now (Boom sha lock lock boom) A little louder (Boom sha lock lock boom) Everybody (Boom sha lock lock boom) All right now Breaker, breaker, here comes the caper Straight with the taper, the lyric skyscraper Hit ya like a lyrical murderer I know ya think I have, but yo I never heard of ya Just because you heard of me kid Fuck around until you do the lifetime bid I'll put you in the dirt, and leave your ass for dead When it comes to tools, T's the sharpest in the shed Cause I'm the 55 Cadilac king It ain't no thing, my cargo ring We'll bust you in the crib I got the skill, you gots to chill Cause I bring doom, I got the boom sha lock lock boom Chorus I rock mad styles, I hop turnstiles I rock all mikes, I last all night I puff fat blunts, I rock fine scunts Step up bo, I'll kock out your gold fronts Everlast, that's my name My unique rhyme style's my claim to fame The House Of Pain's the name of my clip You can't be down, punk, get off my dick You make me sick, like strawberry Quik Your style is wack, you ain't the mac So yo step back, get off the crack And sing a new tune like boom sha lock lock boom Chorus (2x) |
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| 3. |
| 5:04 | 
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| 4. |
| 4:06 |
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I used to kick it with the thugs, pushin' drugs in the park
Makin' every mark that was out after dark Stick 'em for their loot, cut em up then I'd dash And when I had to shoot, I'd nutted up for the cash Ran down the block with my 45 glock Capped off a round, everybody hit the ground The next thing I heard was a siren Couldn't turn around, money grip kept firin' Runnin' for the ride, I can't go inside I'd rather that I died, I got too much pride I guess it's just somethin' that you can't understand My gun's in my hand, tell me who's the man? Chorus (x4) Who's the man with the master plan? Who's the man? Who's the man? I used to sell ya yo back in the day-o Ran with the gang, had all the homie's slang Grams to the quarters, I'm takin' all the orders Makin' all the runs, Rakin' in the funds I always got my gun, it's the old six-shooter King of the neighborhood, crazy white peckerwood Now people thinkin' Danny lost his mind It must've been from all the wine man and all the hardtimes Like chillin' in the park in the dark with the crew I'm always gettin' high, I saw my man die Now I got the work and the dough, 25 grand and a 5 keys of blow I gotta' relocate and start all over But watch it blow up like a supernova I keep my game in tight and follow the plan My gun's in my hand, tell me who's the man? Chorus (x4) I got myself locked down in the pen I ain't got a friend, so here I go again I gotta' get my props up and earn my respect Gotta' shake someone up or throw 'em off the top deck My time's runnin' out, I gotta' spill some blood If I don't do it quick, shit, my name'll be mud So I pick out a hardrock and rush him in his cell Beat his ass down and then say that he fell And if I gotta' do him, screw him, the convict's dead I'll stab him in the chest, just another Of the cell block know that I'm nobody's ho My shanks in my hand so tell me who's the man? Chorus (x4) |
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| 5. |
| 4:41 |
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| 6. |
| 3:29 |
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Uh shoot 'em all baby
Just call it in one time for me real heavy Back in black Who's the mack Sittin' on the back Of a Cadillac It's the D motherfucker Better pass me the mic So I can rock on And drop the styles I write I like hip-hop Ya don't stop And all that I rock the freak styles And neat styles That are crazy phat, It's making me sick Punk get off my dick chorus 'Cause I'm the same motherfucker That I ever was Same motherfucker But I can't pay attention 'Cause I'm on that dust My head's not swell Kid I'm not gell Don't feed me soup Just give me the funky loop I'll rock it to the best of my ability Runnin' mad styles and showin' flexibility 'Cause I'm the man that's on point When I jam a funky joint I want some other over there Yo, I just don't care shit Pass the mic Then I'm gonna' tear shit Up like a peice of paper Your girl caught the vapor When I ran the caper I ain't rearranged So don't look strange I'm the same motherfucker Ain't a damn thing changed chorus 'Cause I'm hard like stone Don't play me soft And I rock rhymes frequently I drop it off and I'm off in space I remember your face But don't remember your name 'Cause it's all the same As it ever was That's what it is money grip Don't trip Or I'm gonna' bust that lip chorus Bustin', flippin', skippin', Just like a stone on a river Ya know I'm gonna' give her Whole lotta' flavor Criminal behavior Used to be how I made it But that shit's over rated Now I rock rhymes over funky beats I fuck fine hookers between satin sheets They say money changes people But I won't 'cause I'm the same motherfucker that I ever was chorus And ya don't quit 'Cause I'm on that dust Soul Assasins are on that dust[ha ha...] My man J. Disco is on that dust Cypress Hill is on that dust FunkDoobiest is on that dust |
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| 7. |
| 3:32 |
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You know I rock microphones
Like they got back bones And I'll roll on your shore like some bisquit dough Yea you study writin' styles off the next man's flow Think your Jackson But your name ain't Bo I'm only hittin' chick fine as Madalin Stowe Got a closet in my crib where the hydrophonic grow Act like you know Lee toast the chronic It ain't the season The reasons strictly economic So pour the jinn and tonic Pump the Tony Bennet If wifey ain't watchin' then I'm runnin' up in it I'll make ya hot and spicy like some wavos rancheros Then hit the Knicks game with my man Don Terros And if the Knicks are winnin' Then Spike Lee's grinnin' Next I hit the spot with Stretch Armstrong spinnin' Sippin wiskeys to my favorite cuts Watchin' all the earthpieces shake their butts Some People think I'm nuts 'cause I act a little funny But play me soft I'll beat ya down like ya stole money [CHORUS] Throw your hands in the air and shake your caboose Politican' with your chickens it's time to get loose It's the wicked Pain inflicter with the MICKEYs doose doose... I see a million ....... goin' out on the bottle The Heavy-Weight Champion never was a role model I keep it idle with my B-boy brovado From downtown Brooklyn All the way to Colorado Ya someone play the lotto...kid if you feel lucky I'm not a toy but I'll hunt you down like Chucky You must be buggin' 'cause I heard you want to buck me You must be trippin' 'cause your women wants to fuck me [CHORUS] Throw your hands in the air and shake your caboose Politican' with your chickens it's time to get loose It's the wicked Pain inflicter with the MICKEYs doose doose... It's four for the cores It goes on behind closed doors When you go for yours It matters the most You like to brake a post And drink and make a toast When you don't come up close Kid, you be coming up boast (?) Plus, you playin' coastandoast (?) But you girls on my Jimmy Try to give me bassoast Before you finish, kid that's Spanish for pieces I'm nuttin' up, cuttin' up The first man who disses me [CHORUS] Throw your hands in the air and shake your caboose I'm politican with your chickens It's time to get loose It's the wicked Pain inflicter with the MICKEYs doose doose... Before you play yourself, kid, put your head in a noose It's the wicked Pain inflicter... |
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| 8. |
| 3:11 |
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Yea, check it out now
Everybody check it out now Yo, I got the corn beef I got the moz I got the shotty Ay yo, I got the buck shot Ay yo, I got the burgers I got the grill If you're steppin' up next Ya better flex that skill The House Of Pain is in full effect Everybody in the place give full respect If your girl's in the house keep the ho in check And if I'm bustin' off caps, you better hit the deck Steppin' on stage with the fly routines I'm hemmin' up suckers like bell bottom jeans I always switch trains in Jamaica, Queens When I go to by the street to see my Aunt Eileen Danny Boy's comin' with the Irish style The money back guarantee, I make it worth your while I'm layin' out fools like kitchen tile You come around with a frown, and ya leave in a pile Step back man, I ain't a black man But everytime I grab the mike I rock a phat jam Without the Slimfast, and if I skim past You know I step up and get a ho with gym blast I give her what she wants, even if she fronts The Hill is down with the House, they got the philly blunts Ya know we roll 'em up, and then we light 'em up And then we puff them up and pass them So Danny Boy blasts 'em I got the shell-toed Adidas, with the fat strings The Celtic crosses, and the claddagh rings The straight edges razor and the marther pump You heard me shit clickin', now it's time to jump Jump around just like a frog on a log Fuck the Dukes because I like Boss Hogg I'm hittin' home runs like my man Wade Boggs And if you try to act stupid, I'm droppin' the dogs Every time I go to town People start kickin' my dog around It makes no difference if my dog's a hound (hound) You better stop kickin' my dog around Chorus Put on your shit kickers and kick some shit (4x) Now I've droppin' records since the age of seventeen First I came solo, but I now I got a team It's the four man crew, with the Irish stew You catch us puffin' on a blunt, and sippin' a brew What's up with that brew, man, hurry up and finish Now grab the bar maid and order me another Guinness You can drink the Guiness while I'm sippin' on the mickeys When it comes to hookers, yo, the Everlast is picky Always got my hat in case I come across a quicky And when I do my shows I get the hoes all hot and sticky The House Of Pain is in full effect, yea I say the House Of Pain is in full effect You know the House Of Pain is in full effect, yea And anyone who steps up is gettin' wrecked Chorus (x2) Check it out now! Owww! I said the House Of Pain! We out |
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| 9. |
| 4:26 |
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| 10. |
| 4:23 |
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Victimized
But you're in bed Stumble out and run dead If it ever paid To sell (a?) (start?) (star? *sigh*) Enviroment make you smart Just another victim Just another victim Just another victim, kid I heard it once but not before (taking? or begging?) off and livin bored my hands are tied webbed feet again fell in behind and claim us dead(?) Just another victim Just another victim Just another victim Cast this (?) Give it up I'll lie to you (Blamin? Flamin? Played in?) Flame this (?) Pointed finger You fall apart Just another victim Just another victim Just another victim (fade to HOP) You played yourself now you point the finger How i've robbed and raped ya, bruised and scraped ya but those are just lies, cause in your eyes you've been victimized It's how you size it up, you disguise it up, and try to make it look real To cover up the low self esteem you feel Introspection an afterthought, swimmin in guilt your favorite sport But now you're caught up in the undertow, You never knew a man could sink so low But now you know, cause you're John Doe In a black bag a tag on your toe I built the House I felt the Pain You're victimized but got no one to blame Just another victim You're just another victim, kid Just another victim You're just another victim kid Holy Godiva, i'm a surviver Feeling like DeNiro in Taxi Driver With Jodi Foster, and Harvy Kietel Looks like i'm walkin through a livin Hell So spark that L, and I'll get lifted feelin the effects of what my spliff did Cause I'm gifted, I read Sun Tzu I bought a Gun too so you'll never come too The weight of the world ridin on my shoulders Cause i'm a soldier, I thought I told ya You're just another Victim You're just another Victim, kid You're just another Victim You're just another Victim, kid |
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| 11. |
| 4:58 |
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VERSE:
Cockni O'Dire Watch out, bust the style I be kickin' I play the gig role and bite your head off like a chicken I'm the lord of the rings like Bilbo Baggins Return of my dragon, pants be saggin' Science be droppin', thoughts be buildin' My instinct's primal, tappin' your spinal I'll smack Mike and Janet for the whole freakin' planet Don't take me for granted, 'cause my eyes be slanted From the phat back of blade, I must consume 'Cause my soul's on the verge of impending doom So make room, for the crew with kegs of brew Doin' what we do, so what's the matter with you VERSE: Divine Styler VERSE: Cockni O'Dire I bow my head to the east five times a day I put my face in the dirt every time I pray To disrupt the jinn in me, 'cause the sin in me's Tryin' to take over and make my soul crossover I'm steady rollin' with my head ***** up 'Cause my system pumps loud, everybody's on my nuts And everybody wants to know who lives the phattest The black 850 representin' my status Plus, I got the baddest, house on the hill My bank account's full, but my soul's empty still VERSE: Divine Styler VERSE: Cockni O'Dire I said take me from your House of Pain See my style's maintained, 'cause my membrane's sane So put down your juice, pass your jinn Push up on a skin, I begin to win There ain't, no need to worry about where I've been If I pass my jinn I begin to win I say, put down your juice, pass the jinn Push up on a skin I begin to win There ain't, no need to worry 'bout where I've been If I pass my jinn I begin to win VERSE: Divine Styler |
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| 12. |
| 3:55 |
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Pack it up, pack it in, let me begin,
I came to win, battle me that′s a sin. I won′t tear my sack up, punk you better back up, try an play the role, and the whole crew will act up Get up, stand up, c′mon put your hands up, if you got the feelin, jump across the ceiling. Muggs let the funk flow, someone′s talkin junk yo, I bust em in the eye, then I take the punks ho Feelin, funkin, amps in the trunk and I got more ryhmes than the cop′s at a Dunkin, donut shop, sure enough I got props from the kids on the hill, and my mom and my pops I came to get down, I came to get down, so get out your seat and jump around Jump Around 3x Jump up, Jump up and get down Jump (chant 17x) I′ll serve your ass like John Mchenroe, if your girl steps up I′m smackin the ho. Word to your moms, I came to drop bombs, I got more ryhmes than a bibles got psalms. And just like the botical son I return, anyone steppin to me you′ll get burned Cause I got lyrics which you ain′t got none, if ya come to battle, bring a shotgun But if ya do your a fool cause i do to the death, tryin to step to me you take your last breath. I got the skill, come get your feel, cause when I shoot, I shoot to kill. I came to get down, I came to get down, so get out your seat and jump around. (Chorus) I′m the cream of the crop, I rise to the top, I never eat the pig, cause the pig is a cop Or better yet a terminator, like Arnold Shwrezeneger, trying to play me out as if my name was zeger. But I ain′t goin out like no punk bitch, get used to one style, yo and I might switch it up up and around then buck buck get down, put out your head then you wake up in the dawn of the day. I′m comin to get ya, I′m comin to get ya, spittin out lyrics, homie I′m with ya. I came to get down, I came to get down, so get out your seat and jump around. (Chorus) |
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| 13. |
| 3:49 |
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I'm sick, demented
I came unrepresented I rose from the grave I had a close shave The cops tried to lock me down 'Cause the Glock they found Was stolen That's how I'm rollin' Calvin Klein's No friend of mine So I don't like Marky Or the monarchy Don't start me up like a Rollin' Stone I leave you sulkin' Like Macaulay Culkin In Home Alone So Get A Grip Like Stephen Tyler I used to trip With the Divine Styler Back in the days There were Irish ways And Irish laws to stand up for the cause chorus(4x) When it's time to rock a funky joint I'm on point When it's time to rock a funky jam I'm the man Well it's the D to the A, double N Y BO Y 'cause I rock shit like Ronnie Dio It's a black day of rest Quick run get your vest I'm down with the Hill 'Cause I still got the skill To turn the party out It's all about the skyscraper Your girl caught the vapors So I might videotape her I make a lot of the paper So I don't have to scrape the Bottom of the barrel I rock fly apparel Now I could pull you car Starting up the Harley Davidson I got the gun So the drama you could save it Well it's the mad bum rushin' Funky with percussion From L.A. to Flushing I get your girlie blushin' I'll cutcha' like the butcher But it and Joe the writer The old rock a loop 'Cause I'm super like Schneider chorus(4x) I'm ill, retarded So don't ya get me started I might lose my cool Ya lose if we duel 'Cause I can stomp a hole In the sole of a monk With the rhymes in my head And the beats in my trunk I got the skill kid And I'm gonna' milk it For all it's worth I'm gettin' mines on earth So step to the next head Or like Sadat X said He's gone And that's it's supposed to be Don't stand so close to me chorus(4x) |
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| 14. |
| 4:03 |
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(Uh)
Chorus Word is Bond Pop pop pop pop Grab your chest Now ya bleedin(punk)lead out ya asshole (x4) I break it off like a kit-kat Casue ya cant git that Worth while style Underground sound So now your frontin Tryin to fake it Complain ya never make it And pretty soon you're open Butt naked So your ass starts to rob and steel Madd jealous cause my shit's got mass appeal And now I'm rhymin wit Diamond D With some brand new shit for the year of '93 I got a loop on my crate And I'm duckin The way I'm rhymin on the break Till the brothers, fuck it Ya know I got the funky sound Ya still up un the air Cause last year I said jump around I'm rollin thick So I know you see me I got mad little white kids, Wishin' they could be me So dont step up Cause I'm a come out blastin' You just a quickie Punk, I'm Everlastin Chorus Now let me hear my man( my man, my man, my man) Yo It's Diamond D The psycotic, narrotic Pizza idiotic Smoke 'em Boom thats exotic With my man Everlastin' Brotha's be askin me For the Fee Kid, my name aint Sebastion Give 'em my mom's demo tapes Foam'n at the mouth Dreamin of makin papes I know your thirsty Lord have mercy I got ten acts And ya want to be the first, G Come on, dad Let me breathe yeah Dont be the lint ball on my sleeve Wanna be down and diggin wit the crates Have dough in the pocket And sleep way past 8 I know the feelin Ya wanna be the one weelin and dealin But your shit aint appealin So make haste I'll stick it to a like paste Dont sleep I got the 9 on my waist Chorus I lick shots for the Soul Assasins I lick shots fot the Diamond D I lick shots for the Everlastin And I lick shots for the D-i-t-c Yo I'm more respected My neck's protected So dont get started Just disregard it Cause I'm retarted With an agrial stubin When I see a bootleg I take my record and dupe it Scoop it Just like a news reporter I'm causin disorder Because I'm sorta' Sick of loosin money When I work so hard so if I catch ya bootleggin I'm a pull your card Chorus |
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| 15. |
| 3:33 |
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| 16. |
| 4:13 |
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| 17. |
| 4:20 |
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