I'm handlin' you frauds These wounded ass niggas, I rap circles around 'em I'm bandages and gauze Crooked trap 'round clowns, this rap circus surrounds 'em But I'm havin' a menage Fuckin' with the rap game, and the trap game I'm managin' my odds Man these rappers out here reachin', your arms are too short Take the boxing gloves off, hand 'em to the gods Slaughterhouse, we the military in this bitch Fuck every Tom, Dick and Harry in this bitch, yeah Fuck your apology, I'ma be on astrology shit March into war like Aries in this bitch, yeah You call it light work, nigga this is my life's work I turn around and beat up a beat like I'm writin' Ike's verse Toe taggin' this mothafucka, I don't think Joe Jackson And Buster Douglas could ever do a mic worse I'm tryna murder the microphone I'm tryna murder the microphone If you are what you eat, how come I'm not pussy? That was part uno, this is part two though This the difference between y'all niggas and real rap The competition fell back, niggas ask How much did I use to drink I tell 'em off the top of my head about a gallon, kinda like Pharrell's hat But all jokes aside like I ordered fries I'm liable to store somebody's corpse in the closet, I'm organized Before police was interrogatin', I was livin' the story of my life And Morgan Freeman was narratin' (Say it again) I'm 5'9", not an inch taller 'Fore all of the jewelry, I've been baller Before niggas was hypebeasts, my niggas was bike thiefs You let it out your sight and they take it to sight see Same shit, another nigga gotta die today My bitch gone (why) we ain't ever goin' out on dates (Why) we ain't vacayin' out of state Whinin' all the time, all she do was holler We ain't like a Pagan holiday Rappers will, be actin' ill Know when they die for deals I take the word "lyrical" and flip it backwards And that says "laciryl" And that's exactly how I feel, shoutout to Guru I got the mass appeal I'm tryna murder the microphone I'm tryna murder the microphone I'll give up drinkin' when she give her emotions up (That was part uno, this is part two though) Oh you don't, don't let me learn yah I body the beat and watch it skip, call it m-murda The nerve of anyone who ain't heard of The gang that don't tweet simultaneous for the sake of the sermon (House Gang what up!) Other groups basic mergers We extort 'em from a distance, takin' it further Drama could be all yours, why you want a war for? You can't go at uno, mothafucka, that's a draw 4 We started out as just a feature on a Joe joint Fuck around now, you on the bleachers soon as Joe point Brothers forreal, I can honestly say If you come at me, they'll be 3 dots on you while I'm still typin' Meet fire, street fighters when this pen's writin' Shady, you go through us to get to Em, bison (Come on, crook, you wildin' again) Nah Joe, these niggas stupid, boy we do this shit [I'm tryna murder the microphone I'm tryna murder the microphone Too many frogs go "ribbet" but never leave lilies (That was part uno, this is part two though) These niggas might play cray, try slay me Off my mic, vacay, call it right, it's mayday Right foot in melee, strapped to light AK Have you [?] like Ice JJ Do it for Em, my squad do it for bundles Could've been copped the Phantom, copped the Benz bein' humble Still, the nickel plate is known to get 'em situated It's return fire, even when Joey initiate it How I feel about these rap niggas? Fuck 'em all Drake rhyme about these bitches, I just fuck 'em all A hundred guns, jeans big enough to tuck 'em all Banana clips, fully automatic, you can't duck 'em all Cause when it's gats involved, bodies'll fall From the sky, could really be rainin' cats and dogs It's Joey! Nicer than any rapper you rockin' to Call a spade a spade, nigga try to follow suit I'm tryna murder the microphone Bring it back to life, I murder that microphone Too many big dogs, not enough barkin' yet (That was part uno, this is part two though)
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"Microphone Preem Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 24 Jun 2019. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/31500076/Slaughterhouse>.