Fed Up Lyrics by House Of Pain

Fed Up Lyrics

    Lord have mercy
    Lord have mercy
    I got demons running through my slate
    They like to creep when my thoughts get deep
    Scheming, trying to find a place to fit in
    And manifest itself in the form of a sin
    If i was rin tin tin i'd rip the skin off of lassie
    The shit you talk is idle threatening to blast me
    You high on gas like a rastaman bought it
    Don't set it off kid and get me started
    Cause you're highly regarded when you're dearly departed
    But momma's still crying asking god why in
    The world could you take her only child
    When you was fronting on the streets like you was buckwild
    To keep it real kid you gots to stay humble
    You can't fumble and if you gots to rumble
    Then word to bryant gumble i'm a live for today
    And god bless the man that steps in my way
    Cause if i said it somebody's getting wetted
    So just keep your cool and everything's copasetic
    Pull out your heater kid spit your razor
    And mine'll still be the intellect that plays ya
    Cause when the mike check i'm high tech skills are apparent
    You can play the child kid i'll play the parent
    Cause i'm a be responsible for your schooling
    But i won't change your diapers or do your car poolin


    Chorus
    Get up i'll break ya down a little somethen'
    I'm fed up it's time to go head huntin'
    Dead up too many crews be frontin'
    I'm fed up it's time to go head huntin'
    Get up i'll break ya down a little somethin'
    I'm fed up it's time to go head huntin'
    Dead up too many crews be frontin'
    I'm fed up it's time to go head huntin'


    Lord have some mercy on my soul

    Now why everybody making shit that's unreal
    Cause the (ayanon) man he wants mass appeal
    Forgetting all about how it's supposed to feel
    Kids be going out for the record deal
    So if you pull out the clap then bust your cap
    Or i'm a make like the man and drop bomb on your gat
    But don't snap cause this ain't hbo
    Kid you got no benz plus you got no dough
    While you say that though you trying to gain that ho
    Used to be you had to rhyme about stuff you know
    I don't need mtv to make no bucks
    I rock styles that make you say ¡°ah who dat waz?¡±
    Who that was is the man of all hours
    Sending all star players straight back to the showers
    Fake hard rocks are really just cowards
    I master dub plates like my name's herb powers
    I getcha open like hunting season
    I make papers don't front on the reason
    Cause i'm seizing up every day
    You say carpe diem i call em like i see em

    Chorus 3

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