Meanwhile
Back at the ranch
We got Bo, Duke and Daisy
Goin' to go see Boss Hoggs
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 **** 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 (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 p**** 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
**** 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 are you, retarded
You're startin' to trip from that Jerry 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 squeels
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 (on the track)
My DJ Lethal, he's on the cut
When I bust a dope rhyme, it's like bustin' a ***
So let me ******* 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 ****** Malboro
Don't **** 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

[CHORUS]