Lyrics Slaughterhouse - Joe Budden, Joell Ortiz, Crooked I

Slaughterhouse

Joey what you said, 24 right
Aight cool, I got you
I define gutter — every time 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 wishing, that’s word to my mother
You throw a shot at me, I’m throwing a shot back
Yours is on a joint, mine’s whistling by your top hat
Yeah, 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 lying
They fifth is lying in the second drawer next door to some bullshit they iron
Y’all be making up stories the little kids is buyin'
I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany Lion
I ain’t gotta mention the streets on a song
To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong — pause
Veterans co-sign me, the up-and-comers 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 the gats go crazy
Fuck a lecture, ain’t tryna be Pun’s successor
That term’s done fucker, what up whatever
You birds 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
Dropping bombs for fun then dine in Hell during Ramadan
Whatever I’m rhyming 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 of a brick of hash mixed with acid hits like sick cracker shit
Get back, dumb birds I ignore the hype
Click-clack, Yung Berged if you flossing ice
Dawg, 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
Still mourn at night, don’t wanna see mornin' light
And I feel like I’m forced to fight
When the CHiPs are down like Ponch fallin' off 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 diddy-boppin
You wasn’t really, 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 evolving but grown bitter
On your grave they’re carvin' «Fucked with the wrong nigga»
I don’t write I kill a pen, leak its 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 eating the deceased like quiche
Only when my enemy’s internal organs are a smorgasbord in a feast
The Dahmer with melanin led 'em in the belly of the beast
You’ll be missin' until fishermen see your corpse
I’ll be in Michigan sticking a chicken in my Michelin
Ready to pigeon pitch again from Switzerland to New York
I was whipping Bentleys before them pictures up in The Source
I’m a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit
Shoot you while you’re talking on some news camera crew shit
Sicker than flyin' 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
Tryna keep your stomach intact
The spiritual you, leavin' your body, he don’t wanna go back
That’s when the tunnel go black
I send your soul to the atmosphere
Fuck outta here and your ringtone rap career
It’s Crooked I: the face of Eastside Long Beach
Put your ear to the street so you can hear my heartbeat
Nickel, yeah
I hope niggas know I’ll show up to your show
I’ll show up where you go, show up to your do', foes will explode
Shells 'fore they hit the floor, I know niggas know
I got a 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, «sheeeeeeeeeeee-it»
'Cause when it come to them words you know I wear shit out
I write rhymes like, white lines on a nose tray
Ice cold Ice Cube flow like O’Shea
Ridin' shotgun with Chris Martin — my DJ
Not the White boy, but I’m down for the Coldplay
Forever stay violent, better stay silent
Hammers stay humming like strumming the mandolin violin
Speaking of, I done played a tune of violence
More than 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
Til it ain’t no mo', ain’t no dough
Get into his ass cause I ain’t opposed, I’m a livin' anal probe
I’m a lame-ophobe, matter fact my nigga JumpOff
Can I keep goin' (why the fuck not)
When I was a teen, I used to pack a three-eighty
Now I’m spittin sittin' between Shady and Jay
I pull the 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
They say he a bastard for real, then they see the ass on his girl
So they wonderin' why’s 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 Bush rendish
Endless, move more than two inches
My blood’ll boil like I got a big skin cyst
So end this or see me mañana
Or see the speed of a llama, underground prima donna
That ain’t hard to find, pop a 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 mine and meet nine, mano-a-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 an eagle eye
Closed casket, now you having a boxed wake
Zipper over your head, dude’s callin' you Crotchface
So y’all 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 fag’s might bust
And since poppin' tags is a must (what?)
I hit the bank all I do is withdraw
Chicks removin' their drawers 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 'til you get hot leaded
'Til everything but your torso on you is prosthetic
Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic
Rap what you can’t afford, y’all must got credit
All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless and Joell
With Joe spell, NO L