House Of Pain 4m2r1j

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    Third Stone From The Sun 1q5j5u

    House Of Pain 4m2r1j


    Here come the pecker
    Wood mic wrecker
    Sweet like nectar
    MC selector
    Come again, keep the style I'm bustin'
    You think I'm droppin' acid ???only super cold does it???
    Feel the rushin' through your blood and cerebellum
    And any man that defies, eyes will be swellin'
    So whatcha smellin', kid, I'll bust your melon
    Then I spit out the seed, you got dirty deeds
    You're done, dirt cheap, I'm on the greek don't sleep
    Melee cause the circus, but bullets run deep
    And talk is cheap, kid, it's time to make moves
    It's time to make capital gains with my brains
    The song remains, the same as it ever was
    And you can say my crew's fallin' but it never does
    I'm white chocolate, clockwork apocalypse
    Inter-dimensional like Prince be sensual
    My interplanetary sub-galactic tactic
    Got ya wearin' vests like prophylactics
    My verbal waters rock your sons and daughters
    And I'll tell more lies than priests and rabbis
    And all the allies put together in a cipher
    My skin's my cell, no parole on my life

    CHORUS:
    Doin' time on the third stone from the sun
    Lucy got me on the run, kid, hold my gun
    I'm dealin' with the pressures, son, life ain't fun
    Doin' time on the third stone from the sun

    I'll be gettin' down and dirty by 2030
    Sippin' off my forty, out deep in your shorty
    Lordy, glory, hallelujah
    Like a big Samoan my sig's gonna boo ya
    Do-a-ditty, oh what a pity
    I'm blowin' up the spot like Oklahoma City
    We might terrorism and hold plagerism
    And blood shot vision 'cause I smoke major 'ism
    If you got sob stories, kid, don't tell me 'bout 'em
    'Cause them tin boots you wearin' I'm a lift you outta 'em
    With two shots to your bid, I ain't playin' kid
    I know the games that you runnin' and all the things you did
    And you'll say 'holy cow' if my gun go blaow
    Click-bang, watch me do my thang
    My element's in order, my attribute's eternal
    And all you duck MC's are smellin' just like the Colonel
    You're all fried chicken with your back side lickin'
    I'll play you like a snitch with the ice pick stickin'
    Out your eye socket and if I wanna cock it
    I play remelzee and pull it out my pocket
    I pull it out my pocket, I pull it out my pocket
    Yeah, I play remelzee and pull it out my pocket

    CHORUS

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