Feel It

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 squeals

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 Guinness 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