Illmind Interlude

Slaughterhouse

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    Mmm, I don't even know what to say man
    I'ma... I'ma go miles davis, a lot of improvisation man
    I'ma let the music talk to me, I'ma talk back though
    Let my words bounce off the bassline
    Bounce back to my thought process, I mean I'm just
    I'm just tryin to uhh, keep up with illmind right now
    Yo just man, you could delete all this shit
    I'm just warmin it up for my brothers right now
    My three brothers, house gang for life, woooo

    If you can't stand the heat, better creep out the kitchen
    This music's so therapeutic, it could be our religion
    If I am my own problem, then I am my own solution
    We buildin a glass house so you can see how we livin
    Hold up, turn the beat down and listen
    I was predicted to be convicted, catchin them beatdowns in prison
    By prison guards cause fuck, authority
    Figures minority niggaz be livin hard

    Tell me how to see out your vision, when you limit ours
    You'll only wanna see in the struggle
    But I got (bands in my duffle, band-bands in my duffle)
    Yeah, you can ask the slaughters, I don't mess with you rappers
    Matter of fact our third album is a message to rappers!
    My nigga we let you breathe - now all
    Of them accolades from ratchet bitches

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    And faggots in this rappin business is over, it's back to the business
    Of gangsta rappin that I'm mixin with this backpack, spittin
    With a rat pack clique of niggaz, you best believe
    You pussy, period, I bet you bleed
    A fake nigga that listen to snakes nigga, I bet you eve
    Meanwhile I'm on my django with my field niggaz
    12 Years a slave, this industry tryna kill niggaz
    Even if they noose me, I die hangin with some real niggaz
    And all my nephews are in my will like uncle phil, nigga!
    I'm really cocky - but that's on the low
    Like makaveli's intro when it sound like somebody said "suge shot me"

    I shot the shit with the niggaz who shot shit up, welcome to my hood papi
    Where every night's a movie, but never a good copy
    I sat on granny couch, amped about what I'm ramblin 'bout
    When the amp blew out I made beats with my hands
    And mouth, the man of the house
    So early, little odd though with the curly
    Blow out runnin behind the girlys
    My nigga jigs nicknamed me a dopeboy
    I do miss him so derrly
    Just blaze, I just blazed one up

    Boy I'm headed to mobile monday, I hope yo'.45's ain't dirty
    Don't need them bitches skippin, I know I'm skippin around but fuck it
    Cause I could still bust it with random thoughts, you gotta love it
    Ay crook you my brother, royce you my brother, joe you my brother
    Four different fathers, four different mothers
    But raised by the culture, bet we was hangin the same poster
    Starin at lil' kim with her legs open
    Rewindin the nas verse, blastin some hov'
    Dancin to biggie, trippin off canibus flow

    Don't act like cano wasn't a savage, you know
    But back to my squad, everyone rappin is pro
    Yeah marshall mathers my bro, hey catfish it's a go
    The magic of 2.0 just gettin started
    I'm confused because this healthy mindset made our album retarded
    I'm just playin with words, yeah they pay me for that
    The stages of rap, ask these promoters, these places is packed
    Just killin time 'til that album drop
    Slow it down, I dissed you, I said it's killin time when that album drop

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