X-Files - House Of Pain

Well if Jesus is your Lord

Then praise your God

If Islam’s your thing Allahu Akbar

And if you represent the six-pointed star

Well then my Heebs back home told me to say «Shalom»

I put grooves in the mix

I make moves like the Knicks

And take you straight up the lane

I block out the frame

And then I freeze it, believe it

You needs it like heroin

Before you get your fight on

Kid, get your stare on

Here come the Don Dada making Ghettos Red Hotta

I drop the boom-batta like Jake LaMotta

I can single you out and isolate ya like Mono

I’m undefeated like Rocky Marciano

Hit you’re right below the belt

Now you’re singing soprano

Talk whatcha talk still you don’t know what I know

Some fiend for ass

Some fiend for cash

Some do the knowledge

Some do the math

Some stick to the road

Some stray from the path

Some do the knowledge

Some do the math

Now East Coast, West Coast

Money, what’s the beef

It’s goin down rough like swallowing teeth

I say word to Thin Lizzy, kid I get busy

And I’ll knock all of y’all off this Wonderwall

Cause on a daily basis I rock like Oasis

Bit the Beatles style from a fetus to a child

I kill fourteen billion cells puffing L’s

Stomping devils on all nine levels of Hell

Check the transmission, hear the transition

Observe the technician in finite vision

Your highlight reels are laced by drug deals

As you scheme to check feels on chicks in high heels

It’s all bright and sunny when you’re holding big money

Buy my Sonics got Youth plus my Mud got Honey

I can be the King of Grunge if I blows my sponge away

«There's a little black spot on the sun today»

Which I don’t care if my soul’s up there

So come on and feel the Sting from the true «Pain King!»

Some fiend for ass

Some fiend for cash

Some do the knowledge

Some do the math

Some stick to the road

Some stray from the path

Some do the knowledge

Some do the math