Feel It Lyrics

Feel It lyrics

Meanwhile back at the ranch we got Bo Duke and Daisy goin' to
go see Boss
Hogg. 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 fuck 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
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 pussy 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, fuck 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're you, retarded
You're startin' to trip
from that Jheri 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
My DJ Lethal,
he's on the cut
When I bust a dope rhyme, it's like bustin' a nut
So let
me jerk off on the mic and get it sticky
When I drink a brew it's either
Guiness or mickeys
I'll put your head out just like a fuckin'
Malboro
Don't fuck 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