| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 3:32 | 
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Straight out the casket, rising up
Open up your eyes, can't you see me What the fuck is this madness Pick up my bones Erase my name from off the tombstones Alive and kicking Breathin' the air Call out my name punk And I'll be there No question My suggestion to the action Caught smack dab in the middle of the blastin' Messin with me You're messin' with the best Bleow, you're takin' to shots to the chest 'Cause I'm back from the dead Everlast's comin' back from the dead[Back from the dead] You know I'm back from the dead And I'll put a friggin' hole in your head Back from the dead Back from the dead You can't disrespect it I'm the resurrected Back from the dead Just to mess with your head I'll stress what I said But I won't repeat it If you've got a cold, starve it If you've got a fever, feed it And if you can't feed it Then why not blow You might be positive And not even know I rock the hardcore From the floor to the ceilin' I give sexual healin' I'll get your girlie squealin' Like a pig My grave's somethin' you can never dig I'll rock a mausoleum Backyard a colosseum 'Cause I'm back from the dead Everlast's comin' back from the dead[Back from the dead] You know I'm back from the dead House of Pain's in effect, 'nuff said Skip the autopsy 'Cause I never O.D.'d I only puff boom kid I never get skeed I don't sniff or shoot up Rip I'll stick my boot up Your ass quick fast Everlast don't jive Just like Pearl Jam I'm still Alive[sample of "Rumors" by Timex Social Club] Spreadin' like tumors Gossip and lies Exaggerated reports of my demise And if you believed 'em Well then you got gassed The media deceived em' Just like in the past 'Cause I'm back from the dead Everlast's comin' back from the dead[Back from the dead] You know I'm back from the dead And I'll put a friggin' hole in your head Back from the dead Back from the dead Like Steven Segal I'm hard to kill And like G.G. Allen I'm crazy ill I'll beat ya down with my mic Kick your ass with my Nike Bust ya in the eye If ya tell another lie Ashes to ashes, dust to dust Thinkin' I'm dead You must be smokin' dust Come see me bust in the flesh It's a must 'Cause I'm back from the dead Everlast's comin' back from the dead[Back from the dead] You know I'm back from the dead House of Pain's in effect, 'nuff said Back from the dead(fade) |
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| 2. |
| 3:44 | 
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| 3. |
| 1:26 |
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| 4. |
| 3:48 |
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I'm sick, demented
I came unrepresented I rose from the grave I had a close shave The cops tried to lock me down 'Cause the Glock they found Was stolen That's how I'm rollin' Calvin Klein's No friend of mine So I don't like Marky Or the monarchy Don't start me up like a Rollin' Stone I leave you sulkin' Like Macaulay Culkin In Home Alone So Get A Grip Like Stephen Tyler I used to trip With the Divine Styler Back in the days There were Irish ways And Irish laws to stand up for the cause chorus(4x) When it's time to rock a funky joint I'm on point When it's time to rock a funky jam I'm the man Well it's the D to the A, double N Y BO Y 'cause I rock shit like Ronnie Dio It's a black day of rest Quick run get your vest I'm down with the Hill 'Cause I still got the skill To turn the party out It's all about the skyscraper Your girl caught the vapors So I might videotape her I make a lot of the paper So I don't have to scrape the Bottom of the barrel I rock fly apparel Now I could pull you car Starting up the Harley Davidson I got the gun So the drama you could save it Well it's the mad bum rushin' Funky with percussion From L.A. to Flushing I get your girlie blushin' I'll cutcha' like the butcher But it and Joe the writer The old rock a loop 'Cause I'm super like Schneider chorus(4x) I'm ill, retarded So don't ya get me started I might lose my cool Ya lose if we duel 'Cause I can stomp a hole In the sole of a monk With the rhymes in my head And the beats in my trunk I got the skill kid And I'm gonna' milk it For all it's worth I'm gettin' mines on earth So step to the next head Or like Sadat X said He's gone And that's it's supposed to be Don't stand so close to me chorus(4x) |
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| 5. |
| 3:25 |
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Runnin' Up on Ya
Runnin up on ya The House of Pain...runnin' up on ya(2x) Give me some elbow room Spark the boom Then pass it I'll drop ya like acid Ya might get blasted If ya step to the crew with the Irish Pride Ya wish ya died Cause I don't let shit slide Sinn Fein Is the House of Pain Our day will come Boom she-lach-lach My shit's cocked Ya better run Get a gun Get a bomb It's on like Vietnam Then run and get ya momma And ask why Daddy's buggin' Chuggin' Black & Tan's Smacking Fans I'm breakin' up the set I'm gettin' bitches wet Gettin' all the dough I'm leavin with ya ho And if the ho's ya wife Yo, ya might lose your life Cause I'm runnin' up on ya I ain't gonna' warn ya when I'm runnin' up on ya I ain't gonna' warn ya I'm runnin' up on ya I ain't gonna warn ya when I'm runnin' up on ya I ain't gonna' warn ya I'll rip out ya veins With hooks and chains Just like Pinhead I used to rock a skinhead Now I got a fade Case I'm paid And the bomb is played Everybody's done it So Ev can never run it I started that shit two years ago Your girl started lookin' good five beers ago So I might step to her But I just wanna' screw her I don't want to take her I just wanna' make her Scream out my name Cause the Pain's in the House Bust a nut in her gut And leave a stain in her blouse Then pull up my drawers And she's all yours again And if ya got a beef punk Better bring a friend Cause I'm runnin' up on ya I ain't gonna' warn ya when I'm runnin' up on ya I ain't gonna' warn ya I'm runnin' up on ya I ain't gonna warn ya when I'm runnin' up on ya I ain't gonna' warn ya I'm commin' 'round the corner I ain't gonna' warn ya I'm runnin' up on ya Punk you're a goner Put the gun away Run away Better chill Better yet still Let me get ill I can drop a bomb Full of semen in ya mom And keep her screamin till dawn Cause the E can rock on like a One, two and ya don't stop Ya might get dropped Cause I don't And I swear I don't have a gun I ain't gonna' when Cause I'm runnin' up on ya I ain't gonna' warn ya when I'm runnin' up on ya I ain't gonna' warn ya I'm runnin' up on ya I ain't gonna warn ya Runnin' up on ya |
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| 6. |
| 3:32 |
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Ladies and Gentlemen (2x)
Here's the new shit I'm on We can all get along But if ya step to me wrong I'm gonna bang ya like a gong And I don't need a gang to do it I creep solo Beat ya till ya dead Put out ya freakin head That's how I do Because I'm sick like dat And you'll get kicked like dat If ya fakin' the funk I got a trunk full of beats And a head full of rhymes I got stains on my sheets From all the good times That I spent with ya Hookers Some were good lookers And some were just stunts After too many blunts Ya got ya arm around ya girl But don't make me laugh kid Gettin steam pressured Your girl's schemin' on the grafted Jail faced Celt Backed up Catch a welt From the buckle Of my belt Now tell me how that felt Oooh I'm on some of the over there shit (3x) I'm on some Milky I don't care shit I don't care... It's the return of the livin dead Put all concerned to bed I'm alive and kickin' Ask any girl I'm stickin Back once again I never shot the heroin Or hit the glass pipe Ass wipe Stop the rumor I'll kill ya like a tumor in your colon I'll leave your shit all swollen Get off my dick cause thick is how I'm rollin' The Soul Assassainator'll Get ya open like a crator I'm down with psycho vader cause I'm flava' like a plate a' Corn beef and cabbage I'm a savage on the set Don't do nuthin' you'll regret Because you'll end up gettin' wet like water I'm out for slaughter Cops lock up your daughter Chorus I rock it page style cause freed damaged ya If ya play me close punk I'm gonna' damage ya We got the FunkDoobie in the House With the Mickey Mouse I spot a hooker then I'm runnin up in ya blouse I ain't a bitch so don't play me soft I got a round in my chamber and the safety's off Pullin' on the trigger Ain't nuthin brave But I'm a sick fucker Like a red-neck trucker And I just might buck ya down You're starin' down my barrel So ya jump around Ya try to get away But I'm too quick to pull So don't try to gas me Punk, my tank's full I ain't got the time I don't need the fuel Punk we can duel I'll take ya ass to school Then break down the lesson Here's the pop quiz I get's top billin' You can ask Iz Chorus |
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| 7. |
| 4:02 |
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(Uh)
Chorus Word is Bond Pop pop pop pop Grab your chest Now ya bleedin(punk)lead out ya asshole (x4) I break it off like a kit-kat Casue ya cant git that Worth while style Underground sound So now your frontin Tryin to fake it Complain ya never make it And pretty soon you're open Butt naked So your ass starts to rob and steel Madd jealous cause my shit's got mass appeal And now I'm rhymin wit Diamond D With some brand new shit for the year of '93 I got a loop on my crate And I'm duckin The way I'm rhymin on the break Till the brothers, fuck it Ya know I got the funky sound Ya still up un the air Cause last year I said jump around I'm rollin thick So I know you see me I got mad little white kids, Wishin' they could be me So dont step up Cause I'm a come out blastin' You just a quickie Punk, I'm Everlastin Chorus Now let me hear my man( my man, my man, my man) Yo It's Diamond D The psycotic, narrotic Pizza idiotic Smoke 'em Boom thats exotic With my man Everlastin' Brotha's be askin me For the Fee Kid, my name aint Sebastion Give 'em my mom's demo tapes Foam'n at the mouth Dreamin of makin papes I know your thirsty Lord have mercy I got ten acts And ya want to be the first, G Come on, dad Let me breathe yeah Dont be the lint ball on my sleeve Wanna be down and diggin wit the crates Have dough in the pocket And sleep way past 8 I know the feelin Ya wanna be the one weelin and dealin But your shit aint appealin So make haste I'll stick it to a like paste Dont sleep I got the 9 on my waist Chorus I lick shots for the Soul Assasins I lick shots fot the Diamond D I lick shots for the Everlastin And I lick shots for the D-i-t-c Yo I'm more respected My neck's protected So dont get started Just disregard it Cause I'm retarted With an agrial stubin When I see a bootleg I take my record and dupe it Scoop it Just like a news reporter I'm causin disorder Because I'm sorta' Sick of loosin money When I work so hard so if I catch ya bootleggin I'm a pull your card Chorus |
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| 8. |
| 3:44 |
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| 9. |
| 0:46 |
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| 10. |
| 3:28 |
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Uh shoot 'em all baby
Just call it in one time for me real heavy Back in black Who's the mack Sittin' on the back Of a Cadillac It's the D motherfucker Better pass me the mic So I can rock on And drop the styles I write I like hip-hop Ya don't stop And all that I rock the freak styles And neat styles That are crazy phat, It's making me sick Punk get off my dick chorus 'Cause I'm the same motherfucker That I ever was Same motherfucker But I can't pay attention 'Cause I'm on that dust My head's not swell Kid I'm not gell Don't feed me soup Just give me the funky loop I'll rock it to the best of my ability Runnin' mad styles and showin' flexibility 'Cause I'm the man that's on point When I jam a funky joint I want some other over there Yo, I just don't care shit Pass the mic Then I'm gonna' tear shit Up like a peice of paper Your girl caught the vapor When I ran the caper I ain't rearranged So don't look strange I'm the same motherfucker Ain't a damn thing changed chorus 'Cause I'm hard like stone Don't play me soft And I rock rhymes frequently I drop it off and I'm off in space I remember your face But don't remember your name 'Cause it's all the same As it ever was That's what it is money grip Don't trip Or I'm gonna' bust that lip chorus Bustin', flippin', skippin', Just like a stone on a river Ya know I'm gonna' give her Whole lotta' flavor Criminal behavior Used to be how I made it But that shit's over rated Now I rock rhymes over funky beats I fuck fine hookers between satin sheets They say money changes people But I won't 'cause I'm the same motherfucker that I ever was chorus And ya don't quit 'Cause I'm on that dust Soul Assasins are on that dust[ha ha...] My man J. Disco is on that dust Cypress Hill is on that dust FunkDoobiest is on that dust |
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| 11. |
| 3:28 |
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| 12. |
| 4:03 |
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| 13. |
| 2:54 |
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Still gotta lotta love
Still gotta lotta love Still gotta lotta love Still gotta lotta love Still gotta lotta love Still gotta lotta love Still gotta lotta love Still gotta lotta love Much love to my man Leone Keep rockin' them beats and gettin' parties on the floor Much love for my man Danny Boy Ever since you came in my life you helped bring me joy Much love for my man Grand Mixer-Mugs For taking me off the street and mixin' with the thugs And much love love for my man B-Real I'm glad you got rid of that steel And much love for my man Sen-Dog The crews rolling thicker than some London fog And much love for my man Steve Urkel I trust him wit' my life and with the loop from every show And much love for my brody named Justin Cause if anyone steps up I know you gonna bust 'em And much love for my man Scott Ian For bein' a really down to earth human bein' And much love to my man Guy-O Cause every day of the week he's got another fine ho And much love to my man Bronx Style You came to my party and son, you made it worthwhile And much love to my man Son Doobie If I needed it again you'd sell the gun back to me And much love to my man Ralph Emms and the Tomahawk Funkster Funky like a dumpster And much love to my man Kaves, ADMoney and the Edge With family like Sister Sledge And much love to my moms and my sister and my niece And everyone out there fighting the beast And much love to the pioneers 'Cause I'm gettin' pain for rhymin' and drinkin' beers And much love to the ultra magnetic 'Cause everybody knows you never got enough credit Still gotta lot of love Gotta lotta love Gotta lotta love Gotta lotta love Gotta lotta love Gotta lotta love Gotta lotta love Gotta lotta love Gotta lotta love Gotta lotta love Gotta lotta love Still gotta lot of love |
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| 14. |
| 4:04 |
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| 15. |
| 3:34 |
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I'm sick, demented
I came unrepresented I rose from the grave I had a close shave The cops tried to lock me down 'Cause the Glock they found Was stolen That's how I'm rollin' Calvin Klein's No friend of mine So I don't like Marky Or the monarchy Don't start me up like a Rollin' Stone I leave you sulkin' Like Macaulay Culkin In Home Alone So Get A Grip Like Stephen Tyler I used to trip With the Divine Styler Back in the days There were Irish ways And Irish laws to stand up for the cause chorus(4x) When it's time to rock a funky joint I'm on point When it's time to rock a funky jam I'm the man Well it's the D to the A, double N Y BO Y 'cause I rock shit like Ronnie Dio It's a black day of rest Quick run get your vest I'm down with the Hill 'Cause I still got the skill To turn the party out It's all about the skyscraper Your girl caught the vapors So I might videotape her I make a lot of the paper So I don't have to scrape the Bottom of the barrel I rock fly apparel Now I could pull you car Starting up the Harley Davidson I got the gun So the drama you could save it Well it's the mad bum rushin' Funky with percussion From L.A. to Flushing I get your girlie blushin' I'll cutcha' like the butcher But it and Joe the writer The old rock a loop 'Cause I'm super like Schneider chorus(4x) I'm ill, retarded So don't ya get me started I might lose my cool Ya lose if we duel 'Cause I can stomp a hole In the sole of a monk With the rhymes in my head And the beats in my trunk I got the skill kid And I'm gonna' milk it For all it's worth I'm gettin' mines on earth So step to the next head Or like Sadat X said He's gone And that's it's supposed to be Don't stand so close to me chorus(4x) |
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