SLAUGHTERHOUSE – Ya Talkin’

Ya Talkin’

Slaughterhouse
Drama
Slaughterhouse

Some niggas talk that real shit
Others acute it
Some niggas get real brag and go just with it
Others they just go where they go
Where they go, it go, know what I mean?
You don’t even acknowledge that shit is as dead nigga
I ain’t got more to say about it
My voice does

These niggas actin’ like I’ve reached my prime
They keep yappin’, lemme speak my mind
When y’all keep talkin’ I try to stay calm
Thinkin’ how could you let a few negative communists make you perspire by your armpits
When you got your idle right by your arm shit
And you’re only surrounded by monsters
Getting harnet just for sellin’ Benny what I’ve accomplished
And your chick’s still got my dick in the back of her mind right around by the time she’s with you
For those who try to run greatness, today is your bedtime
Before I spuke whack cooks and dead lines
I would do fair time
And give me time to rap over your deadline
If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen
Fuck it, I’ve been bubblin’ from thuggin’ and rappin’
Capturin’, publishin’, travellin’ through the underground quietly
Under their noses like Tublin and Chaplin
You new school shooters, you’re nothing
I’m from the old school like mullin’ and packs
And you’re bugged out till you bug an assassin
I’m dead accurate, run into me, I’m a led accident
Pardon my birddog threads if I don’t appear passionate
They hear that last shit and think that I’m here for fashion
Till I take off my glasses and hat and that shirt
When they fuck the whole goddamn earth
I’m bare back in it
I rev and listen to the sound
Spittin’ 13 shells till they hear clowns talkin’, first week’s sale
They don’t know what they’re talkin’ ’bout
The writers inside the Slaughterhouse
The liars decided to walk it out
Long as we real we know that the fake won’t employ us
We believe in fate though the fate won’t destroy us
In muddy waters as long as satan tongue is avoided
We don’t give a fuck if pitchfork don’t support us
They say that problem marshal probably restored order
Why they rolling over a dollar looking for change?
Now I’m here and I’m providing them full of quarters
Courtesy of my boy Porter
As I’m submerged in this coy sporter
Probly ridin’ around with a bird in boy shorts
Swervin’ in a Panamera 4 door Porsche
Pressin’ the pedal to the medal to let it breathe
I fuck her and tell her we can never be and she should let it be
Drop her off wherever and drive home to the nag and his bitch ever tell ‘er she the queen?
And I would never leave and that’s my life
Hated and loved I’m like when reality and lightning strikes at the same damn time
Cause I came from above it
Me and this gun keep discussin’
New rules have changed but fuck it with discussion
Just hang in the budget
Me and insane completely the same
My brains just retains genius things
Even though my memory suck all I remember to do is get fuck this up
You just bang my enemies up
Something like that, I can’t remember, dang
I came from pennies to up, form denies to dealin’ with puff
Like fuck denies I’m famous
I’m payin’ my dues by payin’ for shoes
And crucks for my cause, that’s what I do
Huh I’ve got to count cash to do math
All I need to know it’s if you’re losin’ you winnin’ negative and winning’s a plus
I’m the general of the tic tic team
Which means your 15 minutes is up
I’m sprinting and yea that does
You’re chasing us minds and you in it and I ain’t got it
Say who win it
The only time I slowed down is when it where I turned around and said eat it my dust after I finish my cup
You rap new jacks, who rap?
You can do like pookie from new Jackie
Go to the other side after you finished my dust
You burnt up by the other side like pookie
You’ll end up another actor that died because he lied
Now it resides inside of an urn for tryna earn trust
I earned it because I don’t trust nothing but my gun and my gut
This is how I’m cut
Rich enough to cut one of you little bittie bitin’ ass niggas in
You’ll be rich from just getting the little bittie bit of my cut
My bitch fly bruh
I’m hovin’ over while I’m fuckin’ over you
I’m holdin’ her thighs up
Tell your homies and friends that I’m fuckin the friendly skies up
Don’t thinks this kid fish drivin’ while I’m nuttin’ out ignite
If you’re lyin’ ridin’ round and I’m getting it
Like 2 Chainz, in order for you lames to hit me
You gotta find me and bomb me like I’m Saddam Hussein

Never fuckin’ doin’ it, no
We got it
Niggas

SLAUGHTERHOUSE feat. SLV – Who I Am

House Gang House Gang
House Gang House Gang
And you know how we ride
In that Sl playin SLV
On the house, get ‘em

Guess who’s back, turnin’ the track in the mix made for diabetics with diarrhoea, think it’s just sweet
All the MC, even though I’m all about money
I found time to throw it away with swiss beats
House Gang, hardest fools ’round
Don Juan’s up, garden tools down
Black Rolls Royce ridin’ up the coast
Niggas left me for dead, I came back in that Ghost
The resurrection
Can’t spell sex without the letter X so this is a letter to every X
I’m sexin’, I get the best aura, no question
Pectoral shit, we ouchea flexin’
Yea, that’s the Slaughterhouse team
Looking down on ballers as if we as tall as Yao Ming
Fly is what we are without wings
Like scientist studyin’ the environment, we all about green

I fuck who nigga I want
I let you more comin’ from
Told me I wouldn’t go far
Am I nobody to a star?
If that’s where you’re takin’ me
You’ve been mistakin’ me
I’m still here amazingly
If you can, thank God for making me who I am

These raps from a smoker’s lungs
Climb the ladder to success, get the broken wrongs
See I’m now never guessin’, was a token bum
Mail box full of subpoenas, I might open one
Guess the cops didn’t learn that these warrants don’t phase ‘em
Live in my mind, how could bars ever cage him?
Give me a break, I’m a law abiding citizen
And I kill the cell mate if there’s nothing there
Some say that I’m mean
Now they got it fucked up, I just say what I mean
It was never ’bout money, I was chasin’ a dream
And now I’m proof that rage can beat the machine
I took being the sickest way over being the richest
If you focused on me I ain’t doing half bad
Right there in the airs, I solemnly swear
That the joke was on me but I got the last laugh

I fuck who nigga I want
I let you more comin’ from
Told me I wouldn’t go far
Am I nobody to a star?
If that’s where you’re takin’ me
You’ve been mistakin’ me
I’m still here amazingly
If you can, thank God for making me who I am

My real name, my rap shit
No bed frame, just a mattress
Tryna light the stove, lookin’ for a book of matches
Losing in a hole but your medals getting practice
Flickin’ drow action
In a zip lock from an old package
Niggas better be lucky that I’m so passive
I’m a blow pass it like a coke habit
You afraid of me then you afraid you’ll ever flow massive
I sit a raid and fit it over Beau Jackson’s jeans horse shoe
Under the horse polo relaxin’
With a horse shotgun and a porchlight
And the horses brag
You be doing horse tryna call cab
A merrier with the New York of swag
Got me a cast as Massachusetts, I be throwin’ in the Boston crap
This a toast to the streets
Where they eat your food down to the bon apetit
So don’t turn your cheek
My real name, my rap shit
The Messiah of real rap shit
Nod your head, make a face like you’re sitting on the toilet
And it’s real hard to crap shit, yea I make that shit
Put it gat clappers on a silver night
Who opens soda to the right? You know
Switch your gat backward
I wrote a track with a tack in my gen sport
So who the fuck said I don’t do this for the backpackers?
Come on
One hit in my piff and you call if I got pot
Top notch at the minimum cost
Do me a favour, take your little nix and get lost
The only time you get to pee is when I’m pissin’ you off
I mean ringin’ the bell, everybody would tell you the same thing, I’m thorough
And I could still kill in the field where they kill cause I’m real, never ran, never will

I fuck who nigga I want
I fuck who nigga I want
I let you more comin’ from
Told me I wouldn’t go far
Am I nobody to a star?
If that’s where you’re takin’ me
You’ve been mistakin’ me
I’m still here amazingly
If you can, thank God for making me who I am

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – Where Sinners Dwell

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9]
I’m coming from the depths of the city where sinners dwell
We finish frail niggas with shells from splinter cells
When losers win, winners fail, I’ll cut your nose off
To spite your face, until you decay you can’t even call your scent a smell
Mommy dragging a donkey, I’ll pin a tail
I been writing so dark and for so long, my pen is pale
For the money y’all impale, your heart with twenty ten inch nails
Put a hole in your racket like I turned your tennis ball into a spin and snail
I laid off, they whole flow, on my day off I sprayed off
That fofo, then made off, with more dough then Madoff
I’m the Adolf, Hitler, of this shit bruh
No soul, my skeleton sneak
Your ho, got a hella physique
I hope she know I shoot boat loads
Bon appetit, when she get to this house
I’m a spit this out, turn a chicken’s mouth to a pelican beak
Heartbeat ready, as I done, sloppy steady
Watch her do it, slob that knob. drop that jaw
And watch her come up, Rocsi Eddie

[Hook:]
From the depths of the city where sinners dwell
From the depths of the city where sinners dwell
From the depths of the city where sinners dwell
From the depths of the city where sinners dwell

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
I’m coming from where sinners dwell
Where ghetto America’s future is poverty
We inherited Lucifer’s property
They giving us niggas Hell
Choose your philosophy
Is usually hypocrisy
Lose your democracy
Nobody vote counting in 2012
So my Ruger is watching me
I move to the monopoly properly
And due to this ruthless economy
I got shit for sell
Our music’s anomaly
You dudes are just comedy
In lieu of monogamy
Your pooky on top of me
I did oh well, all my neighbors heard that vixen yell
The way I make that headboard quake, rate my sex on the Richter Scale
Put it in a coffin, no pillow talking, cause all too often, a bitch will tell
Only thing left on my pillow was a piece of a weave and some Paul Mitchell liquid gel
No one liver, yeah
Go back and find her
Nigga that mainly spit, crazy shit
Prozac and fiber
No rap surviver, nigga, don’t act MacGyver
When it get real in the field you a meal
No appetizer

[Hook]

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – Weight Scale

[Verse 1: Royce da 5'9"]
(Today’s agenda) riding with them sodomy sisters
Pistol on hip, hip to your pistol
The day I bow down to a bitch will be the day I throw a bottle at Rihanna inside of a strip club
Leave the booth just to leave a tooth floating around inside of your pimp cup
What goes around comes around in the form of karma
Nah, that’s probably just me riding around your town in a Fisker
Penning a rhyme equivalent to a winning lottery ticket
Uh, fresh of that weight scale, living a crooked heaven on Earth
Giving them straight hell
Kick in the door of them awards, wondering where are we sitting
Niggas with tight jeans looking like where are they fitting
Beware of they writtens
It’s parallel to an Arab sitting in the terrorist cockpit heading for hell’s kitchen
I talk greasier than Harold’s Chicken
Don’t cross me I leave scales tipping
I’m coming (fresh off that weight scale, fresh off that weight scale
Fresh off that, fresh off that, fresh off that weight scale)

My bitch curvy as a Persian virgin’s features
She here to serve me, she here to disturb the reaper
I keep bank, speak frankless, word to Aretha
I’m fly as a bird and high as the Burj Khalifa
I ride with kings, y’all ride with fiends
You fraudulent niggas remind me of a ponzi scheme
One of y’all niggas was probably cool in school
The rest of y’all niggas was clowns, we should call you the Fonzi team
I’m hate-prone
Niggas listen like ain’t this about a bitch like it’s a Drake song ‘cause my cake long
So stay strong ‘cause your bitch giving me cheekbone
Like Grace Jones using my dick like a payphone
But she ain’t getting the call back
She getting the ball sack, hitting the jaw just where we parked at
Quick as a car jack, I ain’t tryna be funny
I’m tryna be missionary lying on top of my money
I’m coming (fresh off that weight scale)

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
(Today’s agenda) what the fuck would I stop for
Knowing I need more guap stored in my sock drawer
They want an encore when the flow is at mach four
King of the jungle no lying, I let the Glock roar
And this bulletproof vest is irrelevant
I’m telling them look at your melon, I’m nailing a shell in it
And the shell is moving right through your melon into your skeleton
Then the felon is belling the same pitch the fella was yelling and
Police sirens respond to heat firing, I’ma keep firing
I’ma flee, I’ma be quiet, I’m a G, I’m a beat tyrant
From Long Beach and I’m East Side
I oughta, bury you artists like an artifact
Serious as a heart attack, Dodger hat, slaughter tats
Roger that, Art of rap, that’s me
Can’t believe Ice never thought of that, who the fuck brought it back
(Fresh off that weight scale, fresh off that weight scale
Fresh off that, fresh off that, fresh off that weight scale)
Fresh off that weight scale
I guess I’m Canibus and Kool Moe Dee, ‘cause it’s hard for me to take L’s
I’m tryna make more cake than a bake sale
Tell the jakes I’ma make bail then escape ‘cause I hate jail
All these rappers saying they spitting hard raps
Before I buy that shit, show me the Barfax
I got a tongue like a sharp ax
I got a ton of rhymes flyer than anything launching off tarmacs
This is how real it is
When I ghostwrite for niggas, I’m speaking through them, I’m really just a ventriloquist
A iller lyricst, a hint of ignorance
A pinch of militant, a perfect description of what this nigga is
Pull out a scale and weigh CDs
Then distribute it to the fans ‘til they need me
I’m a drug dealer so put out an APB
The same shit that gave these 80s babies ADD

[Verse 3: Joell Oritz]
(Today’s agenda) pyrex sit in the kitchen feeling your eye sweat
Gripping your wrist and watching that pie stretch
Pitching to different niggas for figures, never slipping
5-0 tripping, I dip on them through the projects
Dope boy mindset, gotta get this money
Apply the same grind to this rhyme shit, dummy
Pick a pad, pick a pen, pick a track
Pick a flow, I pick it apart like a locksmith digging in his nose
Sit in the park with the Dre’s on, waist on, heavy to eight long
Put brains on pre-K, the shell is a crayon
Man I’m just tryna write, please leave me alone
‘Cause I ain’t tryna fight, I’m a different Iron Mike
Bite your ear with a syllable, lay a hook that’ll finish you
Throwing jabs at you little dudes, my opponents get rid of you
Hit my corner and listen to Eminem, Crook and Nickel
While Joey fucking the ring girl and this fight is unfixable, uh
You rocking with a BQE boy
That BB, QZQs and BB Kings with D-boy?
Today’s agenda, flame contenders
And have they dame giving brain to they favorite member, yaowa
(Fresh off that weight scale)

[Verse 4: Joe Budden]
(Today’s agenda) diary of a mad man
Machete Joe Joe here I am
Ain’t gotta lie, what you see is what you get, ain’t nothing modified
Me, I give them the same song, go check with Spotify
Don’t get the context wrong, I’m the same G
Spending old money, y’all swear it was the same G
Yea these model hoes cute and entertain me
And though I let them go to the head, they never change me
Far from innocent
Your favorite rapper got a head nod before he approached to check my temperament
I wake sleepy hollow, should of done a Cat scan
Go to Colorado right now and watch Batman
So my dad think I’m styling, how when
I’m everything he’d be if these new drugs was out then
I owe it to holmes, rolling stone
But how I wouldn’t let a stone roll, wonder why I’m stone cold
Problem child to aggravated adult
Got bad cards but I ain’t blaming my hand, it’s logic
I hate jewelry and authority the same
So how the fuck you think I feel about a chain of command, I’m saying
I tell you how you different from I
You always hugging the block, I kiss it goodbye
Sober, my last drinking game started with truth or dare
And ended with me thinking a name
So y’all call it out of control, I’m confused when
To think that you in something to me is the illusion
There’s your answer, verbal smash cancer?
Now the strip club is a basement, I just came in with some dancers
House gang, the clan made it
Used to be scared of [?], thought the klan made it
Joey the fan favorite
Love then hate it both ‘cause I can’t fake it
And if I did I would never tell
I said that all wrong, y’all would never tell
I keep the mindfuck tucked for the jezzebelle’s
Even if they help make it shit would never fail

Biatch!

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – We Did It (Skit)

“Yeah”
“We did it” [9X]

Yeah
Hate to sound like a broken record but, we did it
What else we gon’ do, huh?
What else we gon’ do but hustle?
Grind, go hard man
We in a position where we gotta succeed, by any means necessary
Failure is not an option (real niggaz don’t die)
Cause if we do fail, it’s back to the drawing board

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – Walk Of Shame

[Hook:]
You gotta go, you, you gotta go
You, you, gotta go, you gotta go
That way
You gotta go, you, you gotta go
You, you, gotta go, you, you, but I wanna
See you do the, see you do the, see you do the
Walk of
See you do the, see you do the, see you do the
Walk of shame

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
Six in the morning, don’t even know your name
Even though I’m glad that you came, I’m sorry, but (you gotta go)
Instead of trying to parler, why don’t you make like heaven’s having a soiree?
The party’s up (You gotta go)
No disrespect to you, I just met you, you special but would you…
And even though I feel you fly
My incidental bill’s too high
(Sorry, you got to go)
Here, put my number in your phone so we can talk again
That walk to the lobby you got, we call that the walk of shame
I don’t know what room Joey’s in, or where’s your friend
I don’t know your friend, no offense but

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
It all started when she stuck out her rear top
Bunk of the tour bus, she getting dug out up here
It felt like we could have hung out a year
But I was thinking with my dick, now bitch get the fuck out of here
I’m sorry that I did your girl reckless
I fed her a squirrel breakfast, she left with a pearl necklace
That big old ass had to be felt on
Or else it’s just a waste like the space, I put my belt on
Now tell me what the hell is wrong
Fed with your ex, you get sex and get mailed home
Thugnificant tells em go that way
Then I send that bitch a smiley face (Bitches love a smiley face)

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Joe Budden]
Cab on speed dial, I ain’t with devotion
Ain’t buying what you’re selling, nah I ain’t drinking the potion
Plan like anything slow motion
But a sweet baby Jesus when the frank’s in the ocean
I don’t know magic tricks, but you’ll see plenty soon
Amazing how good one night stand in this empty room
She got gall, being the noise she had at breakfast
I tell her role play and be a voyeur with the exit
No, you don’t get a key to the crib
You can be my wife for a hour get me in your rib
But then you (gotta go)
And this party ain’t unusual
She’s sorry she came, I’m sorry it’s not mutual

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
Yeah, last night was fun. But that look like the sun, so yeah, last night is done (you gotta go)
I know, I’m sad too
Don’t forget your earrings; oh these ain’t yours? My bad, but here’s your bag, booty
(You gotta go)
Your hair looks fine; I swear, your hair looks fine
Plus nobody care, you a dime but look at the time, girl
(You gotta go)
I got shit to do but next time I’m in town you got my word
I’m a get with you
Now where the fuck is this missing shoe? (You gotta go)
When I go in tour I find me a ho for sure
With open jaws and cute knees that both go on floors
Gina’s and Pam’s I ain’t tryin’ be cold
But in the words of Martin: you ain’t gotta go home but

[Hook]

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – Truth Or Truth Pt.1

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
I’m stressed out so much I’m like, “Why stress it?”
Am I selfish for asking myself
“Would you rather count money or count blessings?”
Now that’s a wild question
Fame turned my life upside down
I guess it was meant to be like passing Beyonce a Tic-Tac
And that ain’t a diss, this way more to me than a diss track
Jay-Z is God to me
Nas is God to me!
Eminem is like B.I.G. and Pac to me
And if you disagree I hope you bleed hypocrisy!
And this will be the realest shit I ever wrote
Shoutout to all the crazy bitches I’ve been involved with
Thank y’all for making my wife a crazier bitch than y’all bitches
Y’all might’ve lost me, but y’all win
And this will be the realest shit I ever wrote
Now let’s talk about the BET Awards
When Kanye went to the podium for the win
And mentioned everyone in the same category as him but me and Em
He said they motivated him
And normally that would be ammo to hate on him
But that ain’t my M.O! My M.O. is to be mo’ motivatin’
This new-wave culture is so cultivatin’
Where the fuck do I fit in?
And this will be the realest shit I ever wrote
I succumb so much to this game I feel sorrow
I answer more questions about the 40 and Game squabble
Than I answer questions that I ask myself
“Are you a good father?”, the answers, “Well
Fuck this! Royce got a game tomorrow”
I ain’t gotta spell out the offers
If being famous means speaking to people in offices
Over being there for your sons and daughters
I’m off this
I know the last couple of lines kinda fell out of the pocket
But I don’t give a fuck! Let me tell you this:
When was the last time you cop some shit where it actually came out of your pocket?
Answer that!
If I gotta answer questions from you
You gotta answer questions from me!
“I’m fucking my whole life up for you?” Answer this question:
“What the fuck are you doing for me?” Answer that!
Still I love my fans, even though you all looking me like I’m just this drunk nigga
That’s just throwing up behind shit, blowing up, but nigga I ain’t throwing up shit but my hands
And this is just me growing up
Courtney Artesia, Kino and Fish, please support me I need ya
But in reality an artist is supposed to be supported by easels
But in the meanwhile, I’m just supported by evil

[Verse 2: Joe Budden]
Wattup Royce, you inspire me
And I picked you for the record
I mean, I’m no longer fuckin’ amused
I mean I addressed this shit on “Cut You Loose”
How long am I supposed to stick around for this fuckin’ abuse?
Every time I go to leave, I figure “fuck is the use?”
I endure it for the true fans that covered that new
Or is that just another fuckin’ excuse?
Do I do it for attention cause I crave it, I won’t mention it, I’ll save it
If you know me than you know a nigga treasure anonymity
Nigga thought that as a man, you must be kiddin’ me
And I’m starting to feel like my fans are now condemning me
Listen, I don’t owe y’all shit
Same Joe I am today is the same Joe y’all get
Y’all will interrupt a nigga while he at his place of worship
And think that came along with your 20 dollar purchase
You bought the music, not the nigga that made it
But let me touch up on that nigga that made it
If you’re judging me on actions then I’ll take that L every time
If you conclude “Joe Budden is a corny mu’fucker”
Cause all it mean if I’m a corny mu’fucker
Is the greatest rapper ever’s just a corny mu’fucker
My bad, I’m not as street as you
But all this time I was being me, not being you
I get behind that mic, let all my demons through
Without knowing shit about the people that I’m speaking to
Add that to me not seeing a reason to
And that says a lot in a room full of silence, listen
At 21 I had a drug problem
At 31 still drugs is a problem
But the thing about that pill is it made everything real
And I felt I needed to see
Funny thing about it all, I ain’t like what I saw
Now the lord’s voice is in my head like
“You’ll be DEAD soon for questioning me”
Another lesson for me
Far greater than whatever I profess it to be
Cause if left to me, I’d put our eyes in our brains
We’d over-think what we see and our whole lives would change
But fuck it, that day had to come
Who ever knew that I would have a son?
I coulda guessed it, I was fuckin’ like a rabbit
But I never saw him handle scoliosis like his dad did
Never knew me and Ronnie would talk again
Fuck a rhyme, I’m just happy that we talk again
Who knew that the second I acknowledged you
You would get terminally ill, be in the hospital
The thought of you leaving is what fucks with me
I’m scared to death of getting full custody
Nigga, I look in the mirror disgustingly
So how am I supposed to feel the day that he looks up to me?
I always said you were the worst baby-mother
I had ex-girl confused with baby-mother
And there lies my problem with our creator
All the times I wanted her black ass dead, you wouldn’t take her
Don’t do it now, I need her
Understand, it don’t get no realer
See how I go to bed with thoughts of a damn killer
But rather show y’all my girl through these Instagram filters
Look at her, don’t look at me
Cause if y’all judging, y’all would throw the book at me
Speakin’ of shorty, nah, I’ll do that in private
It might be a little soon for me to let her know how I get
Shit, and now we right back at one
Real quick, let me get back to my son
When a nigga was like
He said “Dad, I’m weird… but I don’t have a problem with that”
And I was like haha… I laughed, and I was like
“Well, number 1, why do you think you’re weird
And number 2, why don’t you have a problem with that?”
And he looked me in my eyes and he was like
“Well, I say I’m weird, number 1, because I know I’m weird
And I don’t have a problem with it because that’s me
And whoever don’t like it, they don’t have to be around me
I’m comfortable with me and who I am”
And right there, that was cold
In my head I thought That was bold
Illest shit about it all, said that at 10 years-old
So I could die right now
I could die right now and feel like he got the most important part of Joe
Or, better than that
I could die right now and feel like he know all he need to know
Joey

Royce, what up

Last night we cried tears of joy
This morning they were still there
What’s handicap without the wheelchair
That’s what we are, but fuck it
We’ll be the sacrificial lamb for y’all niggas
Hate it or love it
Leave all of that, b, fuck it

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
Yeah man, I kinda feel where my nigga was coming from
Both my niggas
You know
Baby moms was on Worldstar n shit
Ya know, talk about I take care of my junior
Me and my niggas straight though
Yo, my little nigga rap
I just let it be ya know cause people get their feelings hurt over other shit so
I just let it go you know
I aint have no rebuttal
But err, when you grew up fucked up
Nobody’s perfect ya’know
But I’m perfect for this
This rap shit man

Eastside long beach, Atlantic avenue and hill
Crooked was a youngster my ghetto attitude was real
Dumper in the waist in case I had to shoot to kill
Rocking dumb mics cause I had was stupid skill
Eastsiders we cypher about a bus bitch
Some sippin’ toca vodka, others had the blunt pitched
A lot of them niggas died, sweatshirt blood drenched
Others went to jail, they hit a lick and left thumbprints
Long beach I salute ya grind
Even though you think you I sold out you not saluting mine
I don’t come around much, I’m on music’s time
Lost and found I found when I’m broke I lose my mind
So I hustle like I’m on a hunger strike
Without a doubt when I cuff a mic
I leave a body count like the shotty’s out
Cause I’m from a group called slaughter
Rap better than everybody house
Now they think I’m in the game and stuntin’
But I’m like an orgasm man, I came from nothing
Some of you from the burbs but you claim you wasn’t
So lame you struttin’, the cain you frontin’
Fuck all that, if I was born rich I would rhyme about it
I was born poor in a ditch, I’m rhyming tryna climb up out it
Tryna avoud a life of crime I’m ’bout
Some say I’ll be fine without it
But I kinda doubt it
Death around the corner, prison breathing down my neck
Chasing paper til a nigga wheezing out of breath
IRS wanna fuck me, I aint even outta debt
Said they Young Buck me, tryna squeeze me outta checks
Yeah, them fools tryna squeeze me outta checks
Don’t talk to dominic’s unless you pay ya mommas rent
With marijuana sent outta town, them dollars spent
My own fam wanna grab the steel and harm me
But I got the nuts to kill an army
Word to Killa army, man all them killers adore me
BET red carpet, the steel was on me
To put a slug in my flesh and blood wouldn’t feel good
Serena crip walking at the Olympics I’m still hood
Still me, til my candle is blown
So many secrets I only told to a glass of patron
Half of my fathers family died of cancer alone
He called me sick, I didn’t answer the phone
How does it feel to know that your son doesn’t care
Cause you wasn’t there, life wasn’t fair
I look at steps in the wrong direction, another stare
Yeah muthafucka yeah

I swear, just the other muthafucking night dawg
Like niggas, niggas rolled in front of my studio on my kids life
Nah’mean, I ran through the fucking studio to my office grabbed that 3.57 thang man
Came out waving, I’m bout to bust, the police pass by
My little brothers told me I needed to chill
Nah’mean, this is what I do man, this is the life I live for real dawg
This aint no muthafuckin’ rap music
Just the other night I coulda killed a nigga man
Nah’mean, I wouldn’t be here rapping about this shit
Think about it man

[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
My grandmom’s left me, father don’t exist
Baby moms stress me, my momma got a cyst
My older son love football and the little nigga hands is mean
But he chronic asthmatic so he fully suited on the sideline wishing he could be in there but still
cheering for his team
My youngest son got nervous, sometimes he cry to me
I’m looking at him like it’s not you fault
You was conceived when daddy was such a slave to his everyday anxiety
I worked at UPS for a week and my boss aint have to fire me
I wasn’t fit to lift boxes I quit
Don’t put me in that box when I spit
My life wasn’t too muthafucking fly for me
Wasn’t too muthafucking fly for me
From the lobby huffing and puffing running from robberies
To Crooked I, Royce Da 5’9″, Joe Budden, homie from the goodie mob and me carving artistry
Celebrating escaping poverty
Ashy knees and no socks
Chinese outta hocks but that was on the first, other than that
Liver works and government sent me yellow cheese in box
Ya’ll aint have that yellow cheese in a box
Last night I cried tears of joy
But the other night I cried tears my boy
No longer here I can’t hear his voice
I guess upstairs they playing dealers choice
Popped a pill with Joe I’m sippin’ clear with Royce
Crook light a cigar nigga
My little homie just hit the pen
Went in a younger dodi, came out a senior citizen
And them crackers just denied me
Fuck dawg I can’t even sneak a visit in
I aint hustlin’ no more if y’all listening
Ya’ll niggas only get the music man
Ya’ll know what be going on with a nigga day to day
I mean shit I aint complaining or nothing
Like a nigga stand on his own two and hold it down
But it’s realer than you think nigga
You think I give a fuck about a rap list
I just left my condo, hopped up in my car I’m on my way to fuck an actress
I don’t need y’all to remind me bout my pen and pad gift
And how my ad-libs subtract your wack spit
Multiply my visits to chase divide my among 4 other niggas
who spazz quick
Nah nigga this aint no rap clique
This is a muthafucking takeover
I want another Range Rover
I got such a hangover celebrating the fact my mother become sober
My uncle fading from that needle though
Found out he fully blown a couple weeks ago
My aunt tested negative but it’s the same result
But she gon die on the same day he stop breathing yo
To know me aint to love me
Nah, to know me is to know me
Cause you aint got to like me but respect that I aint phony
Not a nominee for Yony’s or Oscars for my uh balony
Wat you see is what you get
Hope you getting what you see cause what you seeing is a threat
Come at me with indirect’s, I aint gon write a song about you
I’mma knee you in your neck
And write a song about how I just beat ya to death
Don’t play with my little niggas
I’m just a grown ass man tryna feed my family through the talent God gave me
Honestly I don’t care if you hate me
But don’t fuck with my money
Anything else I say will be dry snitching on myself, how dumb would that be
House gang
YAOWA!!!

SLAUGHTERHOUSE feat. Swizz Beatz – Throw It Away

We’re about to set it off right now [x3]

[Interlude 1:]
You know I ain’t Bill Gates, honey
But I’mma act like I ain’t never had money

[Hook:]
And throw it away [x4]
You see me throw it away
And throw it away
I like to throw it away
Let’s throw it away
Let ‘em know

[Interlude 2:]
You know I ain’t Jay-Z, honey
But I’mma act like I ain’t never had money

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
Live from the area, area, wasted
Try us we’ll bury ya, bury ya, wasted
Standing on couches, everybody know me
Rock star, only thing that’s left to do is O.D
Realest nigga out here, out here
In the club doing what got my name out here, out here
You can call it tipping, you can call it tricking
You can call it this and, that, and if u ballin
Throw them ones up and go
Throw them bitches on queue like
Throw em in the sky when you hear us go
UH, Let it fly- GO
UH, You only live one time, one time
Your favorite rapper only deal wit one time, one time
You know what…

[Interlude 2]

[Hook:]
And throw it away
And throw it away
And throw it away
I like to throw it away
And throw it away
You see me throw it away
Racks stacked up, get it up and throw it away

[Interlude 1]

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
All my money got wings on it, fat
Booties got my ding-a-ling on it, clap
Clap, clap; make that butt applaud
You got all that back, what you fucking for?
Bitches, bitches, this is y’all’s song
I got riches itching sitting in y’all thong
We’re the business, this is Slaughterhouse, baby
This is what it’s all about, crazy, money
Blowing in the breeze like
Like a picture pose, I got cheese like
Come, come, get this money from me, I don’t want it, honey
I don’t make it rain; I make it snow, bunny
Climb the pole to the top of that bitch
I ain’t got it like that, but I got it like, this

[Interlude 1]

[Hook:]
And throw it away
And throw it away
And throw it away
And throw it away
You see me throw it away
And throw it away
I like to throw it away
Let’s throw it away
Let ‘em know

[Interlude 2]

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
Yeah, bitch, damn right, I’m fucking a lesbian stripper
In a Dodge Sprinter; Dick Van Dyke
Whores gonna love it when I go Warren Buffett
Throwing euros on the floor balling on a foreign budget
Slaughter’s in the house, look at the clique, that clique
Deeper than the breasts of a fat chick, fat chick
Party in VIP with the Earth’s realest
On blue boys and ‘shrooms, now the club is Smurf Village
Throwing money in the air like
I’m yelling I’m falsetto like
I know you killers hold the metal tight
Who give a fuck? We all ghetto, right?
I had a lap dance, moment of clarity
This a tax right off, this is my favorite charity

[Interlude 1]

[Hook]

[Interlude 2]

[Verse 4: Joe Budden]
Tell her she could crash here; hit-n-run, hit-n-run
Hope off that pole get on a different one, different one
I told her do that thing a lot and she aint do it
That was my bad, thinkin that she aint stupid!
Cute face with a pretty butt, pretty butt
Shake got a nigga saying giddy-up, giddy-up
Throwin Diddy bucks, put it down, that’s a pick me up
Money too long for me to be tryna titty fuck
Car murder like
Even got the valet workers like
You scratch that, and it’s one thing
Cause I fuck around and you gonna hear the guns sing
Red bottoms hopping out the coupe
We got it tied up, even when we outta the loop
I tell ‘em

[Interlude 1]

[Hook]

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – The Slaughter (Intro)

Who the fuck wanna get it on? [pig squealing]
Get shitted on, ten minutes long [loud chainsaw]
Oh fuck! [various violent butchering]
Get shitted on, ten minutes long
A few minutes featured, then they gone

[gradually fades to a live performance]

Fuck rap, I’m not dealin with it
I carve kindness on a bullet, and kill you with it
Your mom’s a slut [mic gets cut off, weapons sound]
[people screaming as a chainsaw revs up]
[gunshot]

What is an emcee?
An emcee, is a soldier
Who never backs down from any challenge
From any cipher
Well this is the title that was given to us
Slaughterhouse – no fake emcees allowed

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – The Other Side

I paint a smile on my face
But my mind’s in a different place

[Hook:]
They only see the light, but look behind the camera
And then you’ll find an answer on the other side
Look closer, you will find a message for the dreamer
The grass ain’t always greener on the other side

[Verse 1: Royce da 5'9"]
I don’t give a fuck about no rapper, anyone will cap’ya
Everyone is capable of murder if they have to
Anyone can sell drugs, anyone can do time
You trivial-niggas, all you do is confuse crime
Rappers are held is such a high regard while we fall
It’s ’cause we forget the fans are the reason why we’re stars
The fans also are not perfect, keep in mind
Not to treat me like a science project and not a person
I lend my respect to the game ’cause it teach you wisdom
Your friends expect you to change, so they treat you different
Through all my fame in my life I have grown
If my wife decide that she gone, I might wanna die alone
I’m a be honest ’cause every rapper alive
Including I, puts a persona up
But I promise what you seein’ has truly been me
But I ain’t 5’9″ all the time, sometimes I’m just Ryan – a human being

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
I can’t believe she hopped in homie whip
My boo got blinded by the chromy lip
And all that dough he get that he would blow and trick
On open toes to rock with all the clothes she pick
Dim lit restaurants with the Kobe dish
Then neck the Moe’ he sip
Man, you ain’t even like champagne, you little phony bitch
You on homie dick
Look at you walking in them heels like they Sauconys bitch
God this is crap, I mean holy shit
I took you in when you got knocked up
Argue with your moms about why I’m a fuck your pops up
Grave yard shift, liftin’ a box up, ain’t wanna risk being locked up
I just wanted to be a good pops, but
You took my son like he was only yours
We used to go to war on the phone, you had no remorse
You’re cold, your heart shivering
You was on an arm of a artist but that’s just women when…

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Joe Budden]
Lately I’m somber, my relationship with karma
Got me peeling at my skin wishing I was made of armor
Shady, I’m honored, thanks for taking in this monster
Deeper than this stab wound given by my baby momma
Trying to figure if I fear love
Or if the devil got him in some type of bear hug that I’m not aware of
Just cope do what works for you
I’m prettier inside, trying to be reversible
I mean moms never changed, never hurt her view
So when she go, so do I, make that hearse for two
I feel my heart and I’m reminded it’s cold
They say our bodies gon’ parish and our spirit should be assigned new trolls
So if you was climbing with Joe
When it’s my time to go
Fuck a funeral, get out there and find my soul
Cause alone I’d break
I need y’all to help prove that I’m not just God’s lone mistake

[Hook]

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – Sun Doobie

[Joell Ortiz]
As long as I got my pen I don’t need a friend
We got ears that we each’ll lend each other, my brother just hollered at me again
He said he tired of all the lyin, deceivin and
dick-ridin the people providin on every beat but when
I do it it’s stupid, I bruise it like a bad bitch
I lose it, my music’s a movement and they just mad stiff
I told ‘em it’s mathematical in this pad lift
Point ‘em out and I will subtract him, with an ad lib
See the fact is (what) I’m a bastard
How can I not be (Macho, Man)? I’m a (Savage)
In the past I was passive, now I’m mad bitch
I’m spazzin, you get an Adidas classic where yo’ ass is

[Royce Da 5'9"]
Eh-eh, eh-eh, Nickel ain’t the one at all
Snatch your vocal chords out then plug ‘em in my wall
You a knife at a gun fight, our shit is raw
You a square, you’re silverware in a civil war
The Slaughterhouse wolf pack, riders under the moon
The reason you itchin wit’cha lighter under your spoon
I’m a lover, the lead bustin is old to me
You put your head in her butt, I headbutt the ovaries
God dipped me in war paint for all weathers
I’m Mr. spill the liquor on my alcohol tether
No need to ride with nobody, I feel the heat can help me
Your jean’s skinnier than Em is when he eatin healthy, hahaha

[Chorus]
WHOA, WHOA, WHOA
WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, Shaaady!
WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, WHOA
WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, WHOA
{“Mr. Porter-r-r-r-r…”}

[Joe Budden]
Outnumbered, outspoken, outcasted
Outweighed outrageous odds and outlasted
Outlandish, so I learned to outwit ‘em
I outsmart ‘em, outgrew ‘em, I outdid ‘em
Cream, out-bid ‘em, team can’t out-spit him
(You could) Keep sleepin, your wet dream is out with him
(See) Do a lil’ yoga, a lil’ kama sutra
Steakhouse nigga, used to be a Ramen Noodler
Heavy on B and E’s, was a calm intruder
Pumped a Ruger, moms called me con and loser
I suggest you and your mans’ll regroup (why?)
Bet against it, and probably can’t recoup – out!

[Crooked I]
I point a pistol at your mamma mia
I’m sick as Tyson in the ring at the Colosseum with gonorrhea
Fuck a rapper, my clapper black as Muhammadiya
Fuck you R&B bitches, shut up! You not Aaliyah
(Ha ha!) When Mr. Porter record a piano
Producers may wanna order some ammo
I’m a California corner reporter
Your boy wasn’t born with a quarter bein poor as a whore and I’m an aura
It’s sorta Soprano; look here
We reinvent the wheel to have a (Good Year) – and y’all tired
We like Tyler Perry mixed with Everlast
The House of Payne/Pain, Slaughterhouse gang nigga!

[Chorus]

SLAUGHTERHOUSE feat. Freeway – Sucka MC’s

Sometimes you gotta wonder
Maybe it’s the competitive nature of the game
The story kills them

[Verse 1: Freeway]
This is the way the story goes, when you in it for the dough
And you swinging for the fence, close friends’ll turn to foes
Act just like hoes, want you to get the dinner for ‘em
Niggas trying to slow; walk me but I been up on ‘em
Partly cause part of me got love for ‘em
But a part of me got a slug for ‘em
It’s hard for me, he was there from the start of me
Shared gear, see part of me still cares
But part of me feels, he ’bout to try to come to my house to slaughter me
Wait ’til I hit the balcony, then Dr. Martin me
This heart full of larceny, they think I’m the dollar tree
Since I’m the nigga with the weight and they ain’t
They’re like P90X trying to make me lose calories
State Prop chain-gang maintain salary
Freezer sends his goons through hourly, devouring
It’s just the Philly in me
Word to Joey crack, jealous ones envy, sucka MC’s
Fuck haters, get cheese

[Hook x2]
I can see my friends
Turn green with envy
(Jealous ones envy, sucka MC’s
Fuck haters, get cheese)

[Verse 2: Royce Da 5'9"]
I said, with friends like these, who needs enemies
Inside this evil industry, where the green breeds greed, envy, and schemes
Of being easy, dreams of seeing me up under guillotines
But the desert eagle I’m bringing with me can be its wings
It’s supposed to be ’bout respect
Your boys will catch you spend some of your dough and then they’ll count the rest
and bounce before you can bounce a check
He not jealous, he just wants you to split whatever you get with him
And all that he sees is all that you bought and it sticks with him
The snake in the grass from the garden of Eden, it bit him
The first recorded sin, for 4 to 10 to 25 to life
I can quote stories of lead from the top of my head like I don’t write
Drunk and high on life, I learned to back up my own hype
When I had to steal back my own bike, pastor’s on me like “pass the collection plates” of white on rice
God fearing, my only flaw’s my giving heart
It’s not conducive to being frugal and living smart
Maybe I’ll die dumb
Leaving behind a beautiful corpse known for my hand on my balls like Cy Young
Eyes numb from constantly staying open
And constantly being haunted by promises they broken
We supposed to get money

[Hook x2]

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
The bottom of a vodka bottle describes my drink behavior
You’re far from biblical scriptures if you’re thinking a drink can save ya
What happens when your semen donor leaves the streets to raise ya?
You raise your heat, ready to go HAM like Lincoln Abra
Eh bruh, I know this stripper
Who was talking to this nigga, who was talking while he tipped her
Bout to zippers, he be flipping to get them chippers
He told her about his stash, slip of the tongue off the liquor
Yeah I used to dick her, now I call her my play sister
Yeah, we can trust her, we can bust in on that buster while he’s with her
With a ski mask, gloves and snubs doing it like a crook should
Slapped the bitch up a couple of times to make it look good
He said, “Damn, Crooked, you frozen cold”
When I’m broke, these are the types of thoughts that overload my dome
When I’m alone I done dirt that I never ever even told a soul
But my soul knows Ortiz, I need to slow my role

[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
You little suckers, mu’fucka
I put a verse from everyone of you dud busters ‘n Fuddruckers
Got swinging but going nowhere; mud putters
Walking ’round all sour you little bud puffers
I’m done dudda, shottas, poppa
I let the gun stutter, clap that booty, niggas, I’ll gun butt ya
One mother, no father, no sisters, no brother
Couple cousins, why bother, I’m one of one plus, uh
Who gives a fuck about the next man, my jet land
Your face all blue, orange, you’re mad like a Mets fan
I’m Brooklyn, like the Atlantic Ave. Nets and
I run with wildcats like the next season’s Jet plans
Feel the fire like Rex-man
You make one half of Smith & Wesson sign to Russell, you’re tech jam
This is rusty ain’t been popped in forever
My Glock sever your top better not diddy bop through my block in your lever
Pussy

[Hook]

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – She Will (Freestyle)

[Joe Budden]
It go,
I told her, now go and pop that pussy for a real nigga
Fattest ass texting me all day but I still ig’ her
Don’t do the small talk
Wrong guy to deal with
She ask me for a vacay
All she get is a guilt trip
Niggas is talking to the feds now bugging out
Even got cassettes in they chest, Teddy Ruxpin style
Bitches is wylin’, they treatin me like they husband now
Do I got this white girl up stairs like this the drumming house

[Joel Ortiz]
Now go and pop that pussy for another real nigga
House gang bang bang, no Deringer
Long rifle big boobs, drip ooh shout when I come around the corner
Like a Vic’ Cruz route
Suck it with your boobs out
You fucking skank
Deep throat, please choke yeah gag like like a fucking prank
You know us Rican’s be freaking
So though we got dinner reservations later this evening I’m eating

[Chorus - Joe Budden and Joell Ortiz]
She just started to pop it for a nigga and then look back and told me baby it’s real
And I said bitch you crazy if you think I believe you but I’ma still get a feel
She said her head ground breaking so it’s only right I show her the drill
She cute so maybe she won’t, yeah aight nigga, trust me she will
Yeah
Do it for the hardest nigga spittin in the game right now, she will, yeah
Do it for the hardest nigga spittin in the game right now, she will, she will
If I can drop her off and she ain’t gotta take the train right now she will
Do it for the hardest nigga spittin in the game right now, she will, she will

[Joell Ortiz]
I mean..
Why the fuck would she not, she’ll play my side just to be hot
Hop in my ride, crushing these blocks, swallow her pride
Fuck them reeboks, red bottoms glide, girl get on top and
Leave those on and go with your squat, let’s make this porn
See the red dot? The camera’s on
Here’s your big shot
They say you shy, I know you’re not
Now prove ‘em wrong
Make it

[Joe Budden]
He can’t go the places I go
He ain’t been the places I’ve been
He can’t fuck the hoes that I’ve fucked
He don’t spend they way that I spend
Wait she hold that pussy hostage like a pimp is nearby
With me she always wanna lay up like a rim is nearby

[Royce Da 5'9"]
Hop up on that pole and wind
Overtime, take off your clothes and grind
She know she fine, she low-key no she mind
Look at the neck and the hoe get blind
Fuck your man, got a loaded nine
When I’m bowling for colombine
Put a bullet in his head, leave him with an open mind
And I poke his dime

(Crooked I!)

[Crooked I]
In the pussy, I go for delph
Why you think they call it box
Gotta hit baby below the belt
Whether coka or moka after I stroke a
I never broke myself
We into march, but may 15th, we be on your shelf!
Welcome to our House nigga (House nigga)
No Clarence Thomas
Running your lane, we sonning the game
So pay your parents homage
Each one of my gang is one of the same, I’m being very honest
Plus that paint so black on a Bentley coup I’m feeling Farrakhan-ish
I promise, so many tattas got my name on it
These strippers, they bring the parade on stage and I rain on it
Real nigga!
Man I’m getting this money don’t ask how
You get cheese cause of derrière is a cash cow

[Chorus]

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – See Dead People

You are now listening to arrabMUZIK

I, I see dead people
I, I-I see dead people
I, I-I, I see dead people
I, I, I see dead people

[Royce Da 5'9"]
I see different day same sick language
You a game, I’m a game of Russian roulette
Pain and Kurk Cobain mixed with Bane
Drenched in purple rain
And I rearrange your prints, cut ya fingers off
Mail ‘em to your sons, kindergarten class
In a Remy Martin glass
note attached sayin Billy, call your dad
Signed sincerely, he really caught it bad
He clearly could not doubt you
The alcoholic induced me in a coma you sweep
The hostile you, see murder, my style true
Basquiat, Reebok shoe
Our guns ain’t coming out if we not shooting
Yours? Yours is coming out with Detox 2
When we shot, woo, we shock
Which one of y’all niggas wanna box the King Cobra?
I’ll mop ya team sober
I’m not stoppin’ till they drop me in a box in a mausoleum
Sayin’: “here lies an artist with an audience broader than Joselyn’s shoulders”
Hip hop played with the flow, related to poem
The greatest to go in, favor Patrone
Maybe record a poem with Oprah and played it back for Raven Simone
Later niggas! (later niggas)
I got a crush on Queen Latifah cuz I had a dream
We gotta fuck on without the Monie love
I’m wyling on these drugs
It’s just me and my team and an obscene amount of girls
You can eat our dust, we playing ring around the world

[Hook]
I said you know, that we are
Some crazy (I see dead people)
And plus, we know (I-I-I see dead people)
That we are (I, I-I, I see dead people)
Some crazy (I, I-I see dead people)

[Crooked I]
Yea, I see ‘em too with my sixth sense
They prowling while I’m browsing through your housing
With the authority to do you horribly
Leave you in 8 sections like fixed rent
While your bitch bent over extending my dick’s lift
Doggystyle literally when she make my cock expand yo
And you barking up the wrong tree again
Nothing’s three-dimensional, different plain of existence
The only role the clairvoyant human being can see me in
My theatrics lean, psychiatrics right
Like these raps getting ghost-written
By somebody psychopathic residing inside of my psyche’s attic
Inspirin’ rap shit that the coke get in
Or it might be acid, constipation
No shit and it might be magic, that’s it!
Speaking of magic
All I need is a package of the Magnums and a thick snow bunny to pull off the illest rabbit in hat trick
I’m throwing verbals at you before my circles slapped you
Hey, guess what I heard
If you anti-snitch it can bring down even the greatest person, that true?
I guess so, go ask Joe Paterno statue, uh (Crazy nigga!)
The instrumental’s looping, I sit in a mental institution
With screws loose in my temple, sending you simpleton delusions
Confusing your views with simple distribution
The lyrics I’m using to abuse you

[Hook]

[Joell Ortiz]
Y’all crazy man, I ain’t crazy man, tell them Swayze man
They think I’m nuts like a squirrel baby hands
Patting the ground, burying my ex-girl’s new man’s left testicle
Next to two stands, yellin’ shady fans
Starting to rescue range of Anadelle painted grand tans
But that ain’t the case man, I’m just tryna save fans from the same damn million and 80 grams
3-80 blam bars while I wipe my Ray Ban’s sunny cuz they can’t mummy
I mean rap, y’all get the point like E.T. back in the 80’s
So ease back when Ortiz rap, it’s the Navy, Air Force, Army in my reese pack
Then an ABC opposition operative robot
Built by the fans who feel yall so not that ill so scream yaowa when your show start
Will devour you cowards, firin’ rounds from high power go karts
Till your entire town’s in a shower and the soap drops
Fuck! Like the last nut who sucked my blow pop
Cuz I’m charming and schlong felt like King Kong’s arm and I pulled twice
Antibiotics, my psychotic is sick
Recite The Bible on the toilet cuz my God I’m the shit
Grab my ipod and it skips
All you hear is the house like sittin’ on Amityville couch sayin’ Michael you a bitch see
See? Pumping with thorozine, I can’t see
Sido, e-mail from horror scenes, see C dog
Thought I see red people like C.C. Sabathia’s scum track
Maybe it’s a whole bunch of dead people

[Hook]

[Joe Budden]
Wonder why he different from these boys
My temperament’s annoyed, Sigmund Freud
Belligerent on Ritalin and Rory don’t
Look for a reason, all sentiment is void
Oh and pencil when I’m coy when I enter and destroy
Watch the tape slow mo and took the stand, face blam
Raised my left hand, spit on the Bible as I approached
Then grabbed the mic screamed it’s over for you roaches
We can close this only thing that make me crazy, they can’t figure out a motive
See I’m bipolar, you minimalize my mental strides
Memorize the track enterprises if I’ve been inside it
My eyes flashes meat tenderized
My heart will arise
If god put my sins aside I swear I’ll start genocide
My funeral should look like a general died
Dog’s there, let the kennel inside
And they’ll say he insane though
Me, I’d agree with that claim though
Peep my angle, but some would say he is an angel
Never gave a fuck, druggin’ way too many in my state of serenity
Keep it, How can man be here the same boat
Aint no chokes read Fantasia with the written rainbow
Peeing, fleeing, the same clothes
It’s just 2012, Lou Ferigno, just blow
Head in a fish bowl
Headed to hell, dipped in crisco
And walk over your eclipse, show me where it is
You have eaten, turned into Al Green with a phobia of grits
I know dudes that never took the fall for they body
Skipped childhood perhaps couldn’t afford an Atari
Record the homie, call Ferrari, try to mawl the real Paul McCartney
You mighta thought this out awkwardly
Not neurotic, this perpetual
And homeboy that ain’t saliva, it’s last week’s Molly residue
That demon I carry is heavy
So whoever said that’s a hard pill to swallow must never met me
My new nickname’s “Approach With Caution”
Owe me money, I resurrect if you approach that coffin
Take my kindness for weakness it would be your last error
Wrote my thin line between love and hate and mascara
Give me gasoline, pliers, cleaver don’t forget the wrench
More oil on his tongue, easier to get him pitched
Slaughterhouse fuck, leaves you, you ain’t get the hint
Basement full of insides, freezer full of ligaments
Let that be a warning if you eager to getting rich
Gut you niggas whole you Febreeze just to rid the stench
Your devoured, work magic with a weapon
And I’m as indecisive as D Howard you bleed coward
Be certain if you see a guy lurking through your blinds and curtains
It’s Tyler Durden, and verbal, can’t merge and emerge as if it’s just artificial insemination
Only here for revenge cuz to him it’s just ventilation
Pissed off and annoyed he was goin’ in incineration
By a virgin menstuating as a nurse continue racing
Truman Show his whole life, watch the demonstration
And that’s one way of fuckin’ the world, no penetration
Don’t know what to make of you
The six sense is equal in life form but way more than unbreakable

[Outro]
The game of the super group is being changed right now, my nigga
House gang, that’s right pops, let me talk my shit before we go off
Alright pops I guess that’s enough shit talking
Ya’know what I mean
Y’all know, right?

SLAUGHTERHOUSE feat. Skylar Grey – Rescue Me

[Hook: Skylar Grey]
So can you rescue me
Because my ship is sinking
And I’m drowning at sea
So can you rescue me, from me
Can you rescue me?

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9]
I was losing my mind like I was trying to lose it
Using my time for using, abusing my grind
This is my own honest view of who I am behind this, music
Ryan the whole bottle of patron Connoisseur
At a point in time I thought I blew it, doing crime
I would’ve washed a pill down with a shot of my own spinal fluid
And my momma knew it, she saw especially right through it
That I wasn’t protected because peer pressure be like (do it)
But I couldn’t fight through it, the beef started
The streets caught up, at least we didn’t get caught up in deceased orders
It’s Slaughterhouse, cause Shady, me, Porter
Sat down and made peace over Porterhouse and [?]

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
Some stupid bitch done turned my girl against me
Should’ve tattooed the earth on my arm feel like the world’s against me
Soon as I paraded, here come the rain falling the name calling
From the cause I never met with his hand out like I’m straight balling
Feel like I knocked the 8 ball in
Every time I shoot a move I literally can’t call it
Am I afraid of success? Let me think on it
I just got nervous, let me drink on it
Think I just answered yes but not on purpose
I pass the church and through the Son, Father, and Holy Spirt
But I’m only near it, man I need to pass the service
I’m drowning cause I’m so tired of treading
So Lord when you get a second please

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
I wake up and my shirt is leaking, covered in sweat
I’m dreaming of being murdered when I’m sleeping
Picture a person beefing, with himself
And it’s even, worse when I’m drinking
It hurts when I’m thinking, me versus my personal demons
I’m reaching for my nine
If I point it at myself will it help to quiet the demons screaming in my mind?
And if I go, to the other side
Just tell my mother it was her prayers that kept her young’un thugging son alive
Plus my daughters and my butterfly, tell my son that I, love him
Tell my nieces and nephews their uncle tried
To take this music to the fucking peak
But I’m still a drug dealer as we fucking speak, that’s fucking weak

[Verse 4: Joe Budden]
Behind the tours and fanfare, hospitals and cat scans
Shoulder, when they call him bipolar, happiest mad man
Don’t know my story, my struggle, the demons that I combat
Or how I’m starin’ at them waiting for eye contact, beyond that
I got a soul mate that’s naive, so the thought of me is prison to her
Baby momma that’s crazy and a ten year old who listen’s to her
My fam and friends think I’m the bank
And the way they keep coming back you think I’d got thanked
To you it’s a dream, to me it’s labor, these aren’t monsters, these my neighbors
And you watch each others back, I guess it’s favor for a favor
Sometimes they even save me, when my wrist is to that razor

[Hook]

SLAUGHTERHOUSE feat. The LOX – Put Some Money On It (Remix)

Grind Music bitch!

[Sheek Louch]
Aiyyo Joell, I’m on this son {“Put some money on it”}

Yeah, Don Corlito flyin out a Tito
The further I get the ground look more mosquito
Dutch burnin, other hand big Mojito
I don’t mean Dorito when I say {“Put some money on it”}
Yeah, you ain’t really all around all that stuff
The coke, the crack, the guns, heard ’bout enough
They said, “Yo Donny, you gon’ really sign with Puff?”
I said I’ll live too long as Diddy {“Put some money on it”}
What? I’m the L.O.X. Jeter
Tattooed up in a white wife-beater
Aston Vanquish parked at the meter
I forgot to feed her, better go {“Put some money on it”}
Yeah, now they all love the Don G
I’m on BET more than “Leprechaun 3″
They say I’m on fire, it don’t hurt when I pee
I don’t layaway, only y’all {“Put some money on it”}

[Joell Ortiz]
Uhh, yaowa!
Put your guap up hot stuff, you not tough
Let’s play a game of Trouble and when I pop up
It’s with the glock tucked, crotched up in a dropped up
low like you know how this go {“Put some money on it”}
I’m a product of the corner
Cornered the market with the product I would offer, slaughtered the garbage
Slide a condom on your daughter on the floor in the projects
Homeboy I make more than a promise {“Put some money on it”}
I know the amount of hate that my worth sparks
But I ain’t goin nowhere like a birthmark
I pound puppies before they get to they first bark
Anybody wanna get they first spark? {“Put some money on it”}
Hey, what’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?
Your words so feint they collapsed in your lungs
Put some bass in your voice like you snacked on a drum
Watch my fist make a track on your gums {“Put some money on it”}

[Jadakiss]
Never been wack so that ain’t one of my issues
Get my bread and take care of my pistols
Soon as I open a brick you can see the crystals
Soon as the piff come in you can {“Put some money on it”}
Trust me it’s important, shoot it or snort it
Oxy’s, {?}, profit is gorgeous
Stay off the phone cause the calls are recorded
And if you can afford it then you better {“Put some money on it”}
Tryin to be a diamond in the game I been one
Killin niggaz with the flow, H1N1
You can get a buck-fifty quick, a thin one
Before rap I had a drug dealer’s income
{“Put some money on it”} Master Jason
God on the rocks with a splash of Satan
Stash right here with the ratchet waitin, since you hatin
Name the place and the date and {“Put some money on it”}

[Styles P]
Never trust niggaz no further than I can throw ‘em
Long with the razor and the doctor can’t sew ‘em
Said I as the hardest out, now I gotta show ‘em
Cocksucker doubted me, I owe ‘em {“Put some money on it”}
You could be that dude in cement shoes
or the next soft nigga on this evening’s news
Rap beef, street beef, breeze through crews
Freeze, handguns, machine guns {“Put some money on it”}
I don’t even need guns, play me like I’m poppa shit
End up with a hawk in your esophagus
Hardest nigga to walk in the metropolis
Genocide mixed with apocalypse {“Put some money on it”}
Kill niggaz real easy dawg
Ghost in the flesh, fuck a Ouija Board
Droptop Beamer with the BB’s on
Gun in your face, and I ain’t shoot BB’s dawg {“Put some money on it”}

[Crooked I] SLAUGHTERHOUUUUSE!

[Royce Da 5'9"]
Slaughter gon’ be runnin you over over a century
You ain’t one of The L.O.X., you don’t flow nowhere near me
You ain’t Tip, Ali Shaheed, Phife
Nigga you probably (The Low End Theory) {“Put some money on it”}
You still doin shows for fifty seats
Still writin rhymes ’bout LeBron that’s with the Heat
Still writin raps ’bout Kat and Chippy D
My next freestyle I’ma blast through WikiLeaks {“Put some money on it”}
Maserati ridin with that Mary on
It’s a black and white thang, call that chick Arione
Talkin all that shit you a fuckin fag
I do you like a Louis duffle bag, at the airport {“Put some money on it”}
Bitch, a carry on, my head growin
Gettin my Barry on, lead throwin
With necessary while you puttin on a show for them hoes
Gettin your Tyler Perry on, c’mon {“Put some money on it”}
Uh, my mic manners is quite mannish
I got these young bitches tongue flippin just like Spanish
You gotta feed her just to hit it, that don’t count to me
I take her, fill her tummy up, I don’t mean out to eat
Nickel! {“Put some money on it”}

[Crooked I]
Floor seats at the Knick game, I’m traffickin weed
I’m at The Garden in The Apple like Adam and Eve
And my gat’ll put your hat on your sleeve
Now you really ahead of your time, I’m out of your league {“Put some money on it”}
See I get dough and cop the Benz-o
My job credentials is confidential
It’s not pretend so everything is autobiographical
Weight of the world on my shoulder, the planet on my clavicle {“Put some money on it”}
But it don’t matter though cause I’ma go get it
Life’s a bitch and then you get thrown in it
That’s why I get (Cash Money) like it’s (No Limit)
This material shit, I’m so wit it, get it? {“Put some money on it”}
This is for you rap stars feelin y’all clever
I’m the penitentiary’s sick ward, illest bars ever
I ball in the paint hard
It’s like I’m acceptin bank cards the way that I take charge {“Put some money on it”}

[Joe Budden]
Low tints on the CL, gray coupe
Only out of the cage when all hell breaks loose
Focus pimpin – all my shooters veered off
the road to redemption, so it’s no exemptions {“Put some money on it”}
When Joe is mentioned, the flow is pinchin
Got me in a mansion with a gopher, Benson
If you said you rap you better than that
What we’ll do is treat your head like a tab {“Put some money on it”}
The outfit is fresh, foamposites is copper
She don’t look like a model then I probably wouldn’t pop her
Dudes is my son, should be callin me poppa
I won’t acknowledge it, treatin me like a Focker! {“Put some money on it”}
Hip-Hop ain’t dead, I been puttin the pulse in from long ago (since)
I mean back when Tracey Ullman had her own show (uhh)
Want fire? Put Mouse on it
If I’m a liar go ahead {“Put some money on it”}

SLAUGHTERHOUSE feat. B.o.B – Place To Be

[Crooked I:]
Fuck the world man, we are the freshest
I’m higher than a baby on a seesaw with Precious
Y’all just the messengers, we are the message
You bang on wax, I beef off the record
Back like I trap, you can’t spit this flow
I slang water, slang flour, I’m a get this dough
Behind my zipper where her lipstick go
Like an embryo in a hooker, I’m in this ho

[Royce da 5'9":]
Nickel!
Rright off the rip, nigga we are the dopest
Y’all in front of the camera, we are the focus
Y’all are the watered down, we are the potent
Y’all call y’all bosses, we call the GOAT then
We ball fo’ sho’ and, here we are fast cats, fly
Me and bombs over baghdad, B.o.B
The only thing I hate to see is hate
In the place to be

[Hook: B.o.B]
What an incredible place to be
Away from the bullshit, I’m fading slowly
Ain’t no other place I’d rather be
Away from the lowlifes surrounded by money
What about nines and super freaks?
Bottle of patron, just roll that green
Put it down for the team
So while my bill is getting ends, take another shot
What an incredible place to be

[Joell Ortiz:]
I’m feeling like Cassius, at last it’s the greatest
Angry intelligent rap, mad innovative
Y’all blast garbage shit, we blast the haters
Hip Hop’s a community, we smack the neighbors
The last men standing when the shit get real
When the rest up we stepped up like a 6 inch heel
I’m getting used to how this rich shit feel
But don’t judge me, I’m doing my best to make my dick sit still

[Joe Budden:]
Fresh in the strip club, he be the realest
Drugs got her number, she feel this
I said I need to love before I out her, not anything like a spouse
Told her the roof’s missing, but everything’s on the house
Got a table full of liquor, somethings gotta hit the spot
She might even put them on the glass if we mix a lot
Get her nice and buzzed
The night’ll end when we decide it does

[Hook]

[B.o.B:]
You already know nigga, we be’s the flyest
You might’ve seen high, but nigga we get the highest
Far as lighters, I need at least a 3 week supply with
Now all this pussy thrown at me, now I’m knee deep in ‘gina
Bitch I’m bossin’, fuck around and unleash Goliath
I go deep and get your poon all wet, call me Poseidon
I’m a giant, I eat beats and I burn good, that’s my diet
B.o.B and Slaughterhouse 5

[Royce da 5'9":]
Nine, every time I scribble a rhyme down
Niggas be like (that’s a riot)
Crooked, Ortiz, sick with the flow (that’s a riot)

[Joe Budden:]
Or explosive, know it be like Floetry
So it’s Ambrosis, I wrote it, know that it’s cool to quote it
Joey!

[Joell Ortiz:]
L one hell of a relevant MC, felon ya melon is empty
So elementary, but Neverlands be residing in our pens, see

[Crooked I:]
R, double O-K, E-D-I
Far up and away, cause we be high

[Hook x2]

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – Park It Sideways

You know we’re ’bout that club life, thug life
Got this bitch pumping…
Pocket full of money (we rollin’)
Pocket full of money (we rollin’)
P-p-p-pocket full of money

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
Y’all niggas fake as fuck
Lipstick on my collar, I couldn’t make this up
I live in a real estate like it’s housing
Life is grand, like a thousand
Stopless counting, my bitch is a walking fountain
I talk to bosses, you talk to bouncers
Every bad bitch you see in here is coming with us
So I suggest you…

[Verse 2: Joe Budden]
Get off of her, officer get rid of them cuffs
So many bitches we don’t know, don’t know what to do with them
Head ain’t even fun no more unless there’s two of them
To tell the truth, I think beating it is easy
So when I say I pop a model, y’all got reasons to believe me
Keeping it breezy, just me and my Weeknd CD
Wanna fly in for the week and you see me
Can tell I be beating it beastly cause look at how weakened her knees be
With the [?] track, and she fuck me fast
Now she on stand-by, blame the buddy pass

[Hook:]
You know we’re ’bout that club life, thug life
Got this bitch bumping like a bug bite, thug life
Pockets full of money (we rollin’)
P-p-pockets full of money (we rollin’)
P-p-pockets full of money
Park that motherfucker sideways
Park that motherfucker sideways (we rollin’)
Park that motherfucker sideways
To let these niggas know you’re rolling in some motherfucking shit

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
Like A.I. I cross over when I’m near a mic
I stay fly even though I got a fear of heights
I aim steady when I’m gunning with one of them nines
And you ain’t ready for a hustler who hugging his grind
My chain heavy, so heavy the medallion broke the main levy
Now that motherfucker is flooded with diamonds
Like a broke nigga, I ain’t got nothing to lose
But I’m rich in the club, the couch is under my shoes

[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
And shawty mouth is under my (ooo?)
I can’t say that, radio don’t play that
I’m so cool the sun gotta hate that
But it can never blind me, now where my raise at?
Yeah, boy, this is payback
Y’all was hating back in May, so I said “Hey” and bought a Maybach
The roof gone, so I park it where the shade at
Leave it sideways and spin the wheel, no Sajak

[Hook]

SLAUGHTERHOUSE – Our Way (Outro)

We them back pack niggas
Rap rap niggas
You’ll be talking shit about all day
Internet underground, niggas
Our intellect just won’t allow use to make records y’all way

[Hook: Royce da 5'9"]
Get over yourselves, fucker
Get over yourselves, sucker

Guess that we them back pack niggas
Rap rap niggas
Who will never sell a record, no way
Guess what sucker

We made it, we made it, we made it
But we did it our way, our way, our way
Though it took some time but we finally made it
Now can you truly say that you made it? Your way

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
Dear mister end all be all of an opinion
Fuck what you’re saying, you’ve got fans but we’ve got minions
Plus Eminem got Stan’s like an arena, I went and seen it
From abroad to back home, y’all ain’t got to clap
We’re gonna make this track clap, clap, clap for him
Let me take your back, we turn one song to a group, to a concert, to a record deal
And yes it feels more like carpentry than artistry God’s work let’s get real
All you hear is them niggas like 50 too while we in the 62
But it ain’t no industry business I ain’t privy to
Yeah and for y’all niggas that tired of it
Just lay down and picture your soul over your body

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
Check my rhyme, timeline, I took time with every line
Now I don’t rhyme unless a check gets signed
My bank account, it don’t look bad
I got house gang, hood swag
I’m a Crook that’ll Jump Off with 5’9″‘s or a good jab
Hell yeah, I could brag, dude ain’t never switch
Whether the booth or on the strip I kept a Mac in my book bag
You mad little nigga cause I’m holding the belt
Do some ad-libs nigga, get over yourself
I’m here for the duration, you’re here to reputation
Slide them Dre’s over your shit, prepare your ears for devastation
‘Cause if Yaowa on that motherfucker Yaowa going in
Y’all wan’ be mad go right ahead but once again

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Joe Budden]
As a poster child for Photoshop my whole image was wrong
Straight out a movie, took a pill and all my limits were gone
Now you mention the best and you gotta argue, son
Clothes I used to borrow some, now it’s name brand drawls
Just so my dick can see how far I’ve come
Changing the topic to women they know me to keep mine in labels
That’s how they drape judging of shapes I should keep mine in stables
They left him for dead, took him to watch me resurrect, that shit’s pathetic
Shouldered the blame it’s a shame it took hindsight to give me credit
I got kitchens in the masters, the fish tank is a wall
I got couches in the closets, my estate is confused
We say that blatantly for the fools that missed with a blessing that steal
There’s no other outcome when you question my will

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Crooked I]
They say I’d never make it, never make it
My rhyme scheme is a crime scene, dog I yellow tape it
For lyrical murder, I’m on the verge of my next merger
Had to crawl before I walk so after I ex Gerber
I took it a step further
I took over the web servers
I took over the west word to these fresh words
And rode the wave of web surfers
A circus – that’s what this industry makes me think about
Cause selling out’s a shortcut integrity’s the scenic route
But you have never seen a crew or better team
While you forever sleep we’re doing everything you fuckers dream about
Sucker Slaughterhouse is what they scream and shout
Not the crowd, I mean your bitch now

[Hook]

SLAUGHTERHOUSE feat. Eminem and Skylar Grey – Our House

[Hook 1: Eminem]
I wanna be the best who ever did it
Don’t know if that goal is feasible, or it isn’t
But if it is thank God, if you’re listenin’
Please give me the strength to crush all competition
You can’t blame me for dreaming, I’m a dreamer
And if I’m coming off brash please forgive me
But, that’s all I want

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
I just wanna be the illest MC (That’s all I want)
The same time being as real as can be
Mayhem, sickness, murder, horror
These are the kind of words that describe my aura
G Rap, Ras Kass, Kurupt
Redman I am cut from that cloth
Write a rhyme about me, you a dead man
Cool J, I’m Bad video
Learn the whole routine and perform it for my father’s friends
While they smoked and drank
Symphony, D.O.C. inspired me to write what
Would eventually put me on airplanes like B.o.B
Canibus, Wu-Tang, you know our history but hats off
When we rap this Jack Frost we outline the track chalk
Thank God for the one-two cadence
Thank God for the lunchroom tables
I’m trying to be the sickest nigga, dead or alive
And if I happen to fall short, it’s been one hell of a ride
Chronic 1 and 2, looking up at the sky at the sun
Up until the day the sun is you
You listening to hip-hop, you in Jay’s house
Wayne’s house, Nas’ house
Em’s house, Our House

[Hook 2: Skylar Grey]
So welcome, to our house
Where no one, comes back out
You won’t find, comfort
In here, in here, in here

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
When I was a little boy I wanted to be a rapper
Wanted to be on the radio and snapping pictures after
And so I grabbed my pen and pad and scribbled chitter chatter
It started off whack
But in the words of a ten year old, my shit was getting phatter
I hit the studio at 16, stupid ill
Not knowing how the booth would feel, what’s ADAT’s and two inch reel
How you ad-lib? What’s a punch? I ain’t a boxer
But I sure enough learned the ropes, look D and Mike you made a monster
Now everyday’s a game of Contra, I got 99 men
An infinite amount of rounds inside this mighty fine pen
This is my dream, don’t fuck with it, I’m telling you
Cause anyone can get dusted as long as production is available
I’m disgusted as a fan, look how niggas sounding, damn
Weak head, ya’ll suck bad, fuck swag and your kicks from South Japan
I’m finna to be the best in this profession
I’ve been invested all my life, so wipe your feet before you step in
Our house

[Hook 2 & Hook 1]

[Interlude: Joe Budden]
I just wanna be the illest MC
The same time being as real as can be

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
Yo, in my house, the lights out
No utilities in the facilities
Feeling my life’s ’bout, to wipe out
These feelings I’m feeling be killing me
I pull the mic out, can’t strike out
Cause if winning is really my enemy
I pull a nine out, blow my mind out
Is the end of me really serenity?
Man in my house, it’s rap or die
Get a piece of that apple pie
Life is a Pharcyde song, and that bitch just passes by
So I, got lyrically complex, that way I could clock checks
Get my moms out the projects, with these concepts, competition can’t digest
And then I stress cause the road is rough
I start feeling like shit’s sour
The electricity in my will power, could still power, the twin towers
For ten hours so send cowards
The message from Crooked I
Royce Da 5, Joe Budden, Em Yaowa

[Verse 4: Eminem]
In our, house we spit like Sig Sauers
The way I feel now I could spit for six hours
Straight, only way to be great, is to dig down, if you can hear this sound in
Side my head sounds like a fucking drive-by
That’s what the inside of my mind’s like
Looking back on, my career even, hindsights, tunnel vision, 5 mics
Never wanted that so bad well I got-ta go mad
Nomad with a notepad
Go Taz, spaz on these ho bags
That bother me, but I never wanna show that
Just don’t act like it ever does
Even though you know that there will never come
A day someone blows past you, never was
Someone who’s as dope as you ever was
And you hope that’s, true cause the competitor in you
Couldn’t let someone be better than you
And you know that, so you don’t ever hold back
What you gonna go back, to working a regular job?
Fuck that, I’m gonna go hard grab on my, gonads
Tell them fuck theyselves
They call me a wigger like Renee Zell
But I raised hell like a stay-at-home dad
Rap is the only thing that I was ever really, bad to the bone at
Guess I’m similar to, gangrene when I’m, angry then I’m
Hulk Smash, so much passion but no compassion
If eyes are the windows to the soul
Then it’s, broken glass and there’s no trespassing
Alright now here we go
Dre stamped me now I’m stamping Yelawolf be ready for the most competitive
Clique in the world it’s like Clash Of The Titans
I’m releasing the cracker it’s time to set it again
And when it’s said and it’s all done
None shall fuck with this squadron
So come on in, at your own risk
This is (Our House) Bitch!