Ladies and gentlemen, make some noise! Aw shit, yeah Y'all ready to get this shit started or what? Aight, well I brought some friends with me too Now I ain't back just for the sake of just saying I'm back I could relax but I'd rather stack ammo on tracks Couple Xanax, light a couple wax candles then black Out and relapse 'til I yack Jack Daniels and 'gnac Burp bubbles, attitude's immaturin' Double shot of Bacardi, party, vision is blurrin' Whoa-oh, I can't see shit, my words get to slurrin' Uh-oh! You can call me R. Kelly now, you're in Trouble! What's occurring befo', after, and during the show Has no bearing on the bad news I'm bearing, whoa What is it, wordplay? No, I'm pushing you out the do' So suck my dick on the couch if you wanna cushion the blow Now stomp your f*cking feet 'til you get to squishing a ho It's pandemonium, standing O when you see him, oh Damn, baby you look good, you're giving me wood You should pull over like a sweatshirt with a hood It's neck work, get her polly on, you and me both Break bread while I'm copping over this game to pinch a loaf Now homie who's your favorite pain in the ass? Who claims to be spitting the same flames as me? I'm Kanye when he crashed In other words I got the hood on smash like I stepped on the gas Destroyed the front end, deployed the damn airbags from the dash Went through 'em and laughed Came back an hour after the accident And bit a goddamn Jawbreaker in half! So stop faking the funk and start shaking your ass Slaughterhouse in the house with the Caucasian of rap And Just Blaze on the track, what's the f*ck's more amazing than that? Slut, answer me that, Royce where you at? I'm right here Fire Marshall, verbal pair of pliers I pry apart you Lump on your head designed by a bar stool Designed by a cartoon Before I need to be hired, Jimmy I'll fire Marshall The 9 tucked against the lining I pull it out and flip your partner upside-down Like y'all are a couple 69ing It's like Rick James is shooting up your house, nigga! F*ck yo' couch, nigga! You're screaming, "F*ck the world!" with your middle finger up While I'm over here shoving my dick in a hole in the mud My bitch know I'm perfectly fit for murder Because I murdered her, so you can call me Nickel to O.J. to Glove I got a Posse of Insane Clowns Blow your brains on your opposite ear And ask you how your brain sounds Bad, Evil, we go Alfred E. Neumann mad cerebral You on your last burrito! (What that mean Nickel?) It's a wrap if you eating Get a beat then terrorize that bitch like I'm Middle Eastern Slaughterhouse on fire, nobody touching that Good day and good night, Ortiz, yo, where the f*ck you at? I'm right here in my Nike Airs, Buzz Light-years Ahead of my mic peers, quite scary to look at a nightmare Where my book at? I write fear in the heart of you tight squares I harbor the art of you nice wear It's type weird 'cause that made me hotter than my dear Uncle Al's breath after polishing off his ninth beer Homie chill, listen, I swear I'm God, I give tracks a Holy-feel, and they bite ears I'm right here, why wouldn't I be? Just waiting to be hooked to IV as Mumm-Ra's Well, when you look at my pee And this joint no exception, so just point a direction And record the pig's oink when I rip his intestine This isn't just an infection This won't go away with penicillin injections Millions of questions arose After they did an inspection, what I exhibit Seems to be non-contagious yet anybody can get it Aw shiddit, I did it again, when I liddift this pen I emitted this phlegm, this time it's alongside Edimminem So tell a friend to tell a friend write a disgusting hook Jump in shark water and swim, yo where the f*ck is Crook? I'm right here letting the shotty pop, quick as a karate chop Get your body shot, get your top chopped, like a lollipop Call it Maserati drop, in the body shop Get your mommy knocked And your Uncle Tommy molli-wopped I take your life to the ninth inning A knife in the gunfight, I love it, me and my knife winning I laugh when you fall, the shit'll be funny I'll buy my bitch a new ass and watch her sit on my money Man, all the bitches holla, they wanna drop my britches Then jaw on my dick and swallow, leave drawers in this Impala I ball like Iguodala I bear more arms than 6 koalas As soon as I draw, get sent to Allah Bilinguist don, I kill with the tongue, I'm Atilla the Hun I'm Genghis Khan, I'm a genius spawn I pillage your village for fun, an egregious con A syllable gun, real as they come, Long Beach Saddam! Slaughterhouse equals swine flu, are South flying We do it to try to do without tryin' (Slaughterhouse!) 'Cause to it's us it's so easy Where's Jumpoff Joe Beezy?
Written by: Dominick Wickliffe, Joell Ortiz, Justin Gregory Smith, Marshall Bruce Mathers, Ryan D. Montgomery
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, THE ROYALTY NETWORK INC., RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, THE ADMINISTRATION MP INC
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