Top O' The Morning To Ya Lyrics

(She won't come...Just when you want it)
Ya see, I'm Irish, but I'm not a Leprechaun,
Ya wanna fight, then step up an' we'll get it on.
Ya get a right to the grill, I'm white an' I ill,
A descendant of Dublin with titanic skill,
I duck then I swing, next thing your jaw's broken,
Punk I ain't jokin' you can bet you'll be chokin'
On a fist full o' nuttin', 
Meanwhile I'll be puffin' on a fat blunt, 
What punk, you don't know the half!
Try'n to talk shit, man, please don't make me laff,
These Irish Eyes Are Smilin,
I'm Buckwilin', the House of Pain is pumpin',
Start jumpin!
Freak it, Funk it, Backseat, trunk it.
If ya can't get wit it, you'll wind up sweatin' it,
Then you'll get a beatin' just like an egg,
It's so hard to run when ya got a broken leg, 
But we can have a run-off, 
The House o' Pain will come off,
We got the cake that yer tryin to get a crumb off...
The Irish stylin, the Celtic jazz...
No one has it, just us, that's it.
If ya try to take it, I got a big shalali,
I don't have dreads 'cause I shave my head daily.
Ya call me a skinhead, I call you a pinhead.
Yo, where ya been man? Just like the tin-man
You got no heart, here comes the good part-
I pick 'em, buck 'em, 
Cut 'em up an' buck 'em down, no fuckin' around
Homeboy, ya get clowned like Krusty, trust me
Ya shouldn't play, an' by the way...

(Refrain)
Top o' the Mornin' to You (x4)

Greetin's, Salutation's!
Peace to the nation's of Zulu and Islam,
Crack a bottle, rev the throttle,
Put the gear in, now yer steerin',
Like Mario Andretti, so let me kick it,
'Cause I can make a wicked noise like a cricket,
Rubbin' his legs, my rhymes are like eggs,
I'll keep layin' 'em, I'll keep sayin' 'em,
This is the House of Pain, we're far from plain,
But we're not fancy, Ron and Nancy,
So just say no, but I say go
Straight to Hell, I kiss an' tell,
So if yer a ho, all my friends know,
Whatcha got to say, let's hit the hay,
an' have no delay, an' yo, by the way...

(Refrain)

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!
How could ya doubt it? Now scream an' shout it!
The House o' Pain soon will reign
O'er the Hip Hop scene in light gold an' green.
I rip shit an' back trip like a Jedi,
I roll with the groove an' I'm smooth an' you can bet I
Talk correctly, get respect when I'm flowin'.
Collectin' my dough, I got yer girlfriend ho-in'
An' How do I know that she's sprung?
I know she's sprung 'cause, yo, the G's Hung!
Like a Shetland Pony, gettin' played like Sony,
So never ever try to play me out like a phony,
'Cause I can get real--Thick like a bowl
of Malto-Milk an' by the way...

(Refrain)