[Intro: Brick Tamland]
LOUD NOISES!!!!
[Verse 1: Eminem]
Life handed me lemons, I jumped back in the public eye
And squirted lemon juice in it by now you just wish I’d fuckin' die
But I electrify, get electrocuted, executed by the execution
Of my flow too quick for the human eye to detect zoomin' by
(Choom chigga choom choom choom choom waa)
Guess who, what’s happenin' guy?
They told me to shit, I fell off that pot hopped right back on that crapper and I
Said fuck it with a capital I, look who’s back to antag-g-onize
You don’t like it? you can eat shit, fuck off little faggot and die
You right back like a magnet on my dick grabbin' at my
Shit better get to the back of the line, If you wanna get your shot at me what kinda crap is that battle
What kind of rapper would I be fore I let another rapper think he’s hot
I’ll bury my face in a stinky twat and go...
Girl my head, space is limited, so I ain’t even room in the back of my mind
That’s why I ain’t thinking about you, I don’t got time I done told you a thousand times
So how can I find the time to put an alkaline battery in Royce's back
And at the same time put juice in mine? Goddammit Slaughterhouse is signed!
[Crooked I]
SLAUGHTERHOUSE!
[Verse 2: Crooked I]
I’m a menace villain, my pen is sick and spilling, my lyrics killing
Then I let you witness shit when it hit the ceiling
A niggas willing to give the listeners the sickest feeling
Like mixing some Benadryl and penicillin then I’m filling the clip
With a written, can you picture my pistol drilling
A million women and children when I’m illing but it isn’t real, it’s a rap
On the real, it’s a wrap, how could you possibly stop the Apocalypse
When I’m atomic bombing the populous
Shock the metropolis hostile as a kid popping the Glock at his moms
And his pops then he hops in his drop with his iPod rocking his slaughterish
Documentation of lyrics I write with confidence
Write like a columnist slash novelist
I’m in this game to demolish it, establish my dominance
Over prominent rappers you popping shit to ya opposite
I can spit ominous so spit politics
Now I’m Haile Selassie, Gandhi and Pac of this hip hop genre, bitch!
[Crooked I]
SLAUGHTERHOUSE!
[Verse 3: Royce Da 5'9"]
Lyrically I’m a cocaine Altoid
Ability so brain it’s a no brain bow boy (fresh)
Physically. I’m literally a cocaine cowboy
Wait-wait, did I just go almost four bars without talking about my big dick?
The other day me and your thick bitch had a great date and we ate cake
And then we walked and then she tried to jack me off but she lost
Cause she couldn’t handle my Shake Weight, I swear, the irony of Ryan is I am
Bipolar while I’m rhyming standing beside a big ole white bear
Neither one of us fight fair, you are literally looking at Woody and Wesley
In a movie where the white boy ain’t got to jump nowhere cause I’m here
Nigga I’m on fire, yeah and I’m every bitch’s dream
One, two I’m coming for you, I’m a big ole nightmare
Nigga, this the slaughter, step it up
I’ll pretty much slap your ass and tell you to shut the fuck up
After that, I’ll slap your ass again and tell you to shut the fuck up shutting up
And that’s how you body a fucking beat (Goodbye)
[Crooked I]
SLAUGHTERHOUSE!
[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
I should be the one that goes slow
Nah, get a stopwatch, clock my flow, hit the button on top
Watch your jaw drop, 00:00 (oh oh dot dot oh) Yaowa
When I drop I go outer space
Blackout like Darth Vader’s face, placed in a molten shower
Say something and get done proper, mama poppa pouring out vodka
Mama mia
Em pass me the scissors there’s visitors In the Slaughterhouse casa
Better jet boy go home, better jet boy G4 Chrome
Better jet boy, Mark Sanchez, Santanio Holmes I’m not your any old homeboy
Just sitting in the lab picking up a pad, I be spitting bad
I'mma get you mad with this gift I have little ducks
Sufferin succotash when the trigger blast
I’ma put your beak on your fitted hat
Where the liquor at? Sip a yac bad bitch and a vicious track
I relididax slide pro-tools to both so smooth I coast to the West
Like where Crooked living at?
New York, here’s a piggy back ride to the motherland, hold on brother man
On the other hand, get down, I’m gutter fam
Gun butt you with the Eagle handle Cunningham
I don’t wanna talk, I just wanna beef, I don’t want a piece
I want it all baby boy I don’t wanna eat, I wanna feast
Stuff my cheeks with rough beats and shit
You done, weak, I’m the one, capisce?
[Verse 5: Joe Budden]
Insane what they call us, how you married to the game
But you probably shouldn’t of came to the alter?
Every bar like propane for the sawed-off you shoulda hang and they'll fault ya
Eminem, Mr. Porter, slaughter my sentiments, eminent torture
All of you feminine marauders, they're swimming that water, men will assault ya
Tommy's and bats to resemble Lasorda
Kidnap your trembling daughter
At least a quarter of my I’ma menacing supporter
It's got an aura more like Sodom and Gomorrah
Normally something’s wrong with me
Blame it on quantity of the porn I see on the pawns to me
When I fix the game y’all think shit came with a warranty
How the fuck are they gonna stop what I was born to be?
Corner me shit belong to me
Two choices, you can get along with me
Or sit your faggot ass right there in dormancy
Wait, all he missing is heels to be RuPaul
Ain’t nobody that’s real ever knew y’all
And I’m second to none and I’m dealing with bums
Whose time never comes, now deal with the blue balls
You ain’t gotta fear me but you respect me niggas who never met me
Threaten me, want to Gillette me, coming to a sword fight against a machete
Swinging spaghetti like it’s heavy
Some said he deserve an ESPY in a Chevy like Andretti
Put the desi where his chest be
[Crooked I]
SLAUGHTERHOUSE!
