Guess Who's Back [House Of Pain, 1992, Tommy Boy, USA]
I got the skills to pay the bills I don't pop pills but I send chills Up your spine when I rhyme I get wicked, you got a booger, pick it Sippin' on the 40, ya know it makes me horny Spread them legs, grab my axe Fire up the grill and crack the kegs Nobody fear, the party's here Everlast is comin', the funky drummer's drummin' Ya only came backstage to make the front page To get me locked up, or get yourself knocked up But I ain't with it, even if I did it I got a hundred homeboys to say I didn't hit it My name's Everlast, I got the funky rhymes I make more papers than the LA Times I don't do lines, but I puff blunts I don't rock fronts, but I stuff stunts Fill 'em to the brim like a cup of coffee If ya don't know me, homey, back up off me Cause I ain't soft, see, I'll fly ahead You wind up dead, you made your bed Now ya gotta lie in it, don't bother tryin' it Take my advice, homeboy, think twice Before you step up, step back Or catch a smack, guess who's back
[Chorus]
(He's back) Guess who's back (Everybody's in the street) [4x] (He's back) (Everybody's in the street) [3x] (He's back) [2x]
He's back from the dead, with the shaved head Don't start to trip, dip, I brought my lead Just in case you wanna fuck around I'll stare ya dead in the face, and then I'll buck ya down I'll put ya six feet deep, some say talk's cheap But I make big bucks servin' up punk ducks By the pound, I got the sound I never been checked, I only get wrecked I kick the willy drag, let my pants sag Don't give up the booty, cause I ain't no fag Checkin' out checkit, I'm prone to wreck shit If ya dig this joint, check the next shit I'm Everlast and it's a natural fact That the white man is back
[Chorus]
I'll eat you up like some butter cups from Reeses I come in peace, but you'll leave in pieces That's how I'm livin', that's how it goes Everyday I'm sleepin', every night I'm doin' shows Always gettin' hoes when there's hoes to get got Always wear my hat so I never need a shot Always drink a beer before I write a rhyme And if I have to drive I avoid the one time Stay between the lines and I won't get pulled over I don't need luck cause I got a four leaf clover Yea I'm Irish, word to the motherland But on the otherhand I love America, apple pie, mom and all that My pockets stay phat, step the fuck back Play me close and you catch a mean dose Of my fist, homeboy you get dissed