Slaughterhouse

Joe Budden

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    Joell Ortiz:
    I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch
    Hip hop got my spine smothered
    But I'll be fine brother
    My mind hovers above all you jive suckers
    Listen, that's word to my mother
    You throw a shot at me
    I'm throwing a shot back
    Your's is on a joint
    Mine's whistling by your top hat
    Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back
    Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap
    Im sick and tired of niggas lyin
    They fifth is lyin in they second drawer
    Next door to some bullshit they ironed
    yall be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin
    I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion
    I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song
    To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause
    Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared
    The pretty girls go "Papi here's my underwear"
    Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper
    But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor
    I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma
    You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter
    Between us the gap's so crazy
    I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy
    I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies
    You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy

    Nino Bless:
    Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor
    That term's done fucka, what up whatever
    You bird's is food
    I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,
    Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?
    Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder

    I lust for cheddar, you owe me
    Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure
    I'm somethin' like a phenomenon
    Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan
    Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart
    Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart
    Shit, been through it all
    Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws
    I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff
    Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits
    Like sick cracker shit
    Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype
    Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice
    Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price
    It'll cost you, I'll off your life
    You soft, I told you I'm raw white
    When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight
    Don't wanna see mornin' light
    And I feel like I'm forced to fight
    When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike
    Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right
    I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like
    What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'
    You was a willy
    Now you all Common and really conscious
    I ain't with that silly nonsense
    I really pop shit
    My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics
    I stay evolvin, but grown bitter
    On your grave they carvin "fucked with the wrong nigga"

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    Crooked I:
    I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page
    I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage
    Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile
    Unless i dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age
    Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace
    Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh
    Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast
    The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast
    You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse
    I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin
    In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again
    from Switzerland to New York
    I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source
    I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit
    Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit
    Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit
    Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit
    Exclusive, you don't want it in fact
    I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back
    Tryin to keep your stomach intact
    The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back
    That's when the tunnel go black
    I'll send your soul to the atmosphere
    Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career
    It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach
    Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat

    Royce Da 5'9":
    I hope niggas know
    I'll show up to ya show
    I'll show up where you go
    Show up to ya door
    4's will explode shells
    For they hit the flo'
    I know niggas know
    I got an open window flow
    I air shit out
    In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce
    Now they call me Clay Davis
    Guess why?
    Shiiiiiiiiiieeett
    Cause when it come to them words
    You know I wear shit out
    I write rhymes like white lines
    On the nose tray
    Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea
    Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ
    Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay
    Forever stay violent, better stay silent
    Hammers stay hummin'
    Like strummin' the mandolin or violin
    Speaking of, I done played into the violence
    More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic
    I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up
    Either that or we gon' slap niggas up
    Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode
    If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya
    Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough
    Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed
    I'm a living anal probe
    I'm a lame-a-phobe
    Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?
    (WHY THE FUCK NOT!!!)
    When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380
    Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay
    I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave
    Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she aint shave
    I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed
    I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy
    I'm like Marty McFly
    Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me

    Joe Budden:
    They say he a bastard for real
    Then they see the ass on his girl
    So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world
    I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it
    So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it
    Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest
    I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish
    Endless, move more then 2 inches
    My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst
    So end this, or see me manana
    Or see the speed of a llama
    Underground prima donna
    That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda
    With hands like E. Honda, he a monster
    I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda
    But for us to even beef you should be honored
    My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE
    Nah, rewind each line each time
    Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano
    When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho
    You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho
    Nigga I could fit your house in my condo
    I walk around like ratchets been legalized
    Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye
    Closed casket, now you having a box, wait
    Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face
    So ya'll could bump swag like us
    But the next time rap's discussed
    Add this as a plus
    Don't nobody hit the pad like us
    And would get up in that ass
    But the fags might bust
    And since poppin' tags is a must
    I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl
    Chicks removing they drawls
    Now your crew is in awe
    How you ball?
    Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall
    You gon' need another processor,
    to process it, I'll set it
    I said it!!!
    So keep running around hot headed
    Till you get hot leaded
    Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic
    Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic
    Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit
    All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell
    With Joe spell, NO L!!!!!

    Song details

    Composition: Royce, Joseph Budden, Crooked I, Joell Ortiz, and Marc Shemer

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