| Song | What's That Smell |
| Artist | House of Pain |
| Album | Truth Crushed to Earth Shall Rise Again |
| 作词 : Dimant, Schrody | |
| Baby, because(I say, "Lord, have mercy") | |
| This is for all you dirty bitches out there | |
| Suck up on this motherfuckin' nuts(I say, "Lord, have mercy") | |
| Say stop! | |
| Hey, what's that sound? | |
| Everybody look what's goin' down | |
| I'm everlastin', forever on a roll | |
| I'm rockin' to the boat, steamin' gray matter tone | |
| I ain't sayin' | |
| I'm God but you can graft this | |
| Chances are if | |
| I'm a star, | |
| I'd be Johnny | |
| MathisOn some smooth shit, | |
| I'd be gaming all the honeys | |
| Hitting Hugh | |
| Hefner with his | |
| Playboy Bunnies | |
| Check the | |
| Sunday funnies, | |
| I'd be reading | |
| Doonesbury | |
| See me after dark, love, shit be getting scary | |
| I'll freak you like | |
| Carrie on the night of the prom | |
| Let's keep it cool and calm, | |
| I'll start stroking your palm | |
| Work my way up your arm, start kissing your ear | |
| Maybe, licking your lips, then pulling your hair | |
| Yeah, I freak the back spasm to get the orgasm | |
| And if my legs cramp, girl, | |
| I lick that stamp | |
| I got it sewn love, so you ain't got no worries | |
| Hold up, wait a second, my vision's gettin' blurry | |
| Stop, hey, what's that smell | |
| Someone laced dust all up in my | |
| LBitches start sweatin' once the pockets swell | |
| Let's take it back fourteen billion cells | |
| Periodic measures to say my rhymes | |
| Too much of this dope need growth-type slow | |
| Off a poet's tree, let me blow my leaves | |
| Shake off my roots and pull up my sleeves | |
| Break a branchling wist stick | |
| Lyrics for the mystical | |
| Yo fancy, shake your chancy | |
| Our transystem is torn | |
| MCsI hymn-zen, then | |
| I'm casualies | |
| Pot smoke-seeds, relativities | |
| Seize it, | |
| I be on every first ability | |
| Of chaos, a higher form of infinity | |
| Gettin' me virtually supreme | |
| IDReflectors and tackers | |
| At which my faster phrased words | |
| Super-lax, break raps and | |
| MCs jump off wacks | |
| Revolves and steers and still sees time stilt | |
| I work for | |
| Real Bill | |
| Divine, it's lyrical chill | |
| I say, "Stop", hey, what's that smell? | |
| Someone laced dust all up in my | |
| LBitches start sweatin' when the pockets swell | |
| Let's take it back fourteen billion cells | |
| Stop, hey, what's that smell? | |
| Someone laced dust all up in my | |
| LBitches start sweatin' when the pockets swell | |
| Let's take it back fourteen billion cells |
| zuò cí : Dimant, Schrody | |
| Baby, because I say, " Lord, have mercy" | |
| This is for all you dirty bitches out there | |
| Suck up on this motherfuckin' nuts I say, " Lord, have mercy" | |
| Say stop! | |
| Hey, what' s that sound? | |
| Everybody look what' s goin' down | |
| I' m everlastin', forever on a roll | |
| I' m rockin' to the boat, steamin' gray matter tone | |
| I ain' t sayin' | |
| I' m God but you can graft this | |
| Chances are if | |
| I' m a star, | |
| I' d be Johnny | |
| MathisOn some smooth shit, | |
| I' d be gaming all the honeys | |
| Hitting Hugh | |
| Hefner with his | |
| Playboy Bunnies | |
| Check the | |
| Sunday funnies, | |
| I' d be reading | |
| Doonesbury | |
| See me after dark, love, shit be getting scary | |
| I' ll freak you like | |
| Carrie on the night of the prom | |
| Let' s keep it cool and calm, | |
| I' ll start stroking your palm | |
| Work my way up your arm, start kissing your ear | |
| Maybe, licking your lips, then pulling your hair | |
| Yeah, I freak the back spasm to get the orgasm | |
| And if my legs cramp, girl, | |
| I lick that stamp | |
| I got it sewn love, so you ain' t got no worries | |
| Hold up, wait a second, my vision' s gettin' blurry | |
| Stop, hey, what' s that smell | |
| Someone laced dust all up in my | |
| LBitches start sweatin' once the pockets swell | |
| Let' s take it back fourteen billion cells | |
| Periodic measures to say my rhymes | |
| Too much of this dope need growthtype slow | |
| Off a poet' s tree, let me blow my leaves | |
| Shake off my roots and pull up my sleeves | |
| Break a branchling wist stick | |
| Lyrics for the mystical | |
| Yo fancy, shake your chancy | |
| Our transystem is torn | |
| MCsI hymnzen, then | |
| I' m casualies | |
| Pot smokeseeds, relativities | |
| Seize it, | |
| I be on every first ability | |
| Of chaos, a higher form of infinity | |
| Gettin' me virtually supreme | |
| IDReflectors and tackers | |
| At which my faster phrased words | |
| Superlax, break raps and | |
| MCs jump off wacks | |
| Revolves and steers and still sees time stilt | |
| I work for | |
| Real Bill | |
| Divine, it' s lyrical chill | |
| I say, " Stop", hey, what' s that smell? | |
| Someone laced dust all up in my | |
| LBitches start sweatin' when the pockets swell | |
| Let' s take it back fourteen billion cells | |
| Stop, hey, what' s that smell? | |
| Someone laced dust all up in my | |
| LBitches start sweatin' when the pockets swell | |
| Let' s take it back fourteen billion cells |