Womb To The Tomb House of Pain (Ft. Divine Styler)

CHORUS:
From the womb to the tomb
[Earth to dust]
From the earth to the moon
[The woman I trust]
And from the sea to the sky
[I see reflection]
And from the brain through the eye
[Another soul bless on]

From the celtic tribes, and the highland plains
I hit you with the quickness, like bad brains
I ain't blowin' no spikes, no queers, no dykes
Just the pale-faced cracker in the high-top nikes
Dope bustin' mics, I smoke cannibus
And if it's God's day off, in the sig I trust
You don't think I bust, you don't know my style
I got kids that'll hit ya on the low-profile
I've been from 248, out to east New York
My earth don't wear swine
I don't eat pork From no rusty fork, or no silver spoon
Put down your silver platter, kid, come check the data
My crew's chock-full of free information
It's jihad, Mecca be the destination
Glory be to God one more prostration
The root and foundation of civilization