Текст песни House Of Pain - Fed Up | Слова песни House Of Pain - Fed Up | Тексты песен House Of Pain

Артист:

Fed Up

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Жанры : hip-hop rap old school hip hop alternative

Видео: House Of Pain - Fed Up

Lord have mercy

Lord have mercy

I got demons running through my slate

They like to creep when my thoughts get deep

Scheming, trying to find a place to fit in

And manifest itself in the form of a sin

If I was rin tin tin Id rip the skin off of lassie

The shit you talk is idle threatening to blast me

You high on gas like a rastaman bought it

Dont set it off kid and get me started

Cause youre highly regarded when youre dearly departed

But mommas still crying asking God why in

The world could you take her only child

When you was fronting on the streets like you was buckwild

To keep it real kid you gots to stay humble

You cant fumble and if you gots to rumble

Then word to bryant gumble Im a live for today

And God bless the man that steps in my way

Cause if I said it somebodys getting wetted

So just keep your cool and everythings copasetic

Pull out your heater kid spit your razor

And minell still be the intellect that plays ya

Cause when the mike check Im high tech skills are apparent

You can play the child kid Ill play the parent

Cause Im a be responsible for your schooling

But I wont change your diapers or do your car poolin

Chorus

Get up Ill break ya down a little somethen

Im fed up its time to go head huntin

Dead up too many crews be frontin

Im fed up its time to go head huntin

Get up Ill break ya down a little somethin

Im fed up its time to go head huntin

Dead up too many crews be frontin

Im fed up its time to go head huntin

Lord have some mercy on my soul

Now why everybody making shit thats unreal

Cause the (ayanon) man he wants mass appeal

Forgetting all about how its supposed to feel

Kids be going out for the record deal

So if you pull out the clap then bust your cap

Or Im a make like the man and drop bomb on your gat

But dont snap cause this aint hbo

Kid you got no benz plus you got no dough

While you say that though you trying to gain that ho

Used to be you had to rhyme about stuff you know

I dont need mtv to make no bucks

I rock styles that make you say ah who dat waz?

Who that was is the man of all hours

Sending all star players straight back to the showers

Fake hard rocks are really just cowards

I master dub plates like my names herb powers

I getcha open like hunting season

I make papers dont front on the reason

Cause Im seizing up every day

You say carpe diem I call em like I see em

Chorus 3

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