Baby, because
|
(I say, "Lord, have mercy")
|
This is for all you dirty bitches out there
|
Suck up on this motherfuckin' nuts
|
(I say, "Lord, have mercy")
|
|
Say stop! Hey, what's that sound?
|
Everybody look what's goin' down
|
I'm everlastin', forever on a roll
|
I'm rockin' to the boat, steamin' gray matter tone
|
|
I ain't sayin' I'm God but you can graft this
|
Chances are if I'm a star, I'd be Johnny Mathis
|
On some smooth shit, I'd be gaming all the honeys
|
Hitting Hugh Hefner with his Playboy Bunnies
|
|
Check the Sunday funnies, I'd be reading Doonesbury
|
See me after dark, love, shit be getting scary
|
I'll freak you like Carrie on the night of the prom
|
Let's keep it cool and calm, I'll start stroking your palm
|
|
Work my way up your arm, start kissing your ear
|
Maybe, licking your lips, then pulling your hair
|
Yeah, I freak the back spasm to get the orgasm
|
And if my legs cramp, girl, I lick that stamp
|
I got it sewn love, so you ain't got no worries
|
Hold up, wait a second, my vision's gettin' blurry
|
|
Stop, hey, what's that smell
|
Someone laced dust all up in my L
|
Bitches start sweatin' once the pockets swell
|
Let's take it back fourteen billion cells
|
|
Periodic measures to say my rhymes
|
Too much of this dope need growth-type slow
|
Off a poet's tree, let me blow my leaves
|
Shake off my roots and pull up my sleeves
|
|
Break a branchling wist stick
|
Lyrics for the mystical
|
Yo fancy, shake your chancy
|
Our transystem is torn MCs
|
I hymn-zen, then I'm casualies
|
|
Pot smoke-seeds, relativities
|
Seize it, I be on every first ability
|
Of chaos, a higher form of infinity
|
Gettin' me virtually supreme ID
|
|
Reflectors and tackers
|
At which my faster phrased words
|
Super-lax, break raps and MCs jump off wacks
|
Revolves and steers and still sees time stilt
|
I work for Real Bill Divine, it's lyrical chill
|
|
I say, "Stop", hey, what's that smell?
|
Someone laced dust all up in my L
|
Bitches start sweatin' when the pockets swell
|
Let's take it back fourteen billion cells
|
|
Stop, hey, what's that smell?
|
Someone laced dust all up in my L
|
Bitches start sweatin' when the pockets swell
|
Let's take it back fourteen billion cells
|
|
-----------------
|
What's That Smell
|
| House Of Pain |
