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

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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

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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

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