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Joe Budden - Slaughter House lyrics
(feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9")
 [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
 I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin
 They fifth is lyin in they second drawer
 Next door to some bullshit they ironed
 Ya'll 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? gPapi 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? gfucked with the wrong nigga...
 [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 BeachJoe Budden - Slaughter House - http://motolyrics.com/joe-budden/slaughter-house-lyrics.html
 Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat
 [Royce Da 59:]
 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 ain't 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!








