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House Of Pain Fine Malt Danny Boy, Danny Boy Peckerwood, peckerwood, tell me your tale Please do explain why your skin's so pale And you're so funky, now how can that be Like a bird in a tree on the TLP It's the Irish intellect, no one disrespected My shit'll get hectic real quick This is the House Of Pain (pain) And pain is one thing we're not Cause we know we've got Style and fashion, smoke some hash and I'm smackin' up girls like cars were crashin' Danny Boy, Danny Boy, the pipes are callin' Thought you was a winner, ya was, now you're all in That's right, damn skimpy, ya can't get with me I run the whole track and leave ya three laps back Chop seuy don't do me no good I gotta have corn beef and cabbage, if I wanna manage I never eat pig, but I'll fuck up a potato I'm not a dago, but pasta's all that My pockets stay phat, so step the fuck back You wanna move on me, you better bring an army I rip shit daily, ask my man Tom Baily I'm rockin' the clock like if I was Bill Hailey I'm cockin' my glock, and I got my shileighly So watch your lady, because I'm (Danny Boy!) Danny Boy (Danny Boy!) You know it's Danny Boy (Danny Boy!) 'S Danny Boy (Danny Boy!) You know it's Danny Boy (Danny Boy!) 'S Danny Boy (Danny Boy!) You know it's Danny Boy (Da ney Boy, Da Da ney Boy) Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling From glen to glen, and down the mountainside |
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