Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Our House, artist - Slaughterhouse. Album song welcome to: OUR HOUSE, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Interscope, Shady Records
Song language: English
Our House |
Here’s the story, of a little boy |
Growin' up in a suburban home |
Trying to cope with everyday life |
Who lives in a little house |
That was built, in the middle of the street |
«Hey, Mom! |
Tupac’s on the juke box |
So what he shot two cops |
And raped a little girl |
While two dudes watched,» |
«Nuh-uh! |
They were tryin' to frame him, |
You wouldn’t have Two Pack Shaker,» |
«No! |
That ain’t how you say his name, mum! |
You’re so lame |
Don’t you know anything?» |
«Yeah! |
I know that you’ll probably go |
and join in a gang,» |
«Yeah, right. |
Im out |
Where’s my f*ckin' walkman at?» |
«Stop cussin' at me!» |
«Shut up, b*tch!» |
«And quit talking black.» |
Well, slammed the door and I’m out |
Now, what? |
It’s probably warm in the house |
F*ck, I forgot my jacket |
forgot it was winter |
I’m gettin' thinner |
I’m hungry |
Is Mom cookin' dinner? |
«Mom! |
Let me back in! |
I forgot my coat |
Mom, come on, I’m not playin' |
It’s cold! |
Alright, sorry |
I need a jacket |
Mom, look |
My Tupac tape |
I just cracked it |
Ma, please let me back in |
It is Two Pack Shaker |
I just asked him.» |
I’m freezin', (achoo) |
I’m sneezin' |
I’m breathin' too much cold air |
I’m wheezin' |
«I ain’t did nothin' |
I didn’t say «I'm leavin',» |
I said «I'm goin' on the front |
Porch to get somethin',» |
(scissors cutting) |
«Alright, here. |
Take your damn coat and leave,» |
«Finaly!, |
Mom! |
You cut off the sleaves!» |
Our house |
In the middle of the street |
Our house |
In the middle of the street |
Our house |
In the middle of the street |
Our house |
In the middle of the street |
One, two, three |
My teacher’s two faced |
She went to lower my school grades |
Since Last Tuesday |
I had a toothache |
from kool-aid |
So Mom kicked me out, (get out) |
And, all i had in my suitcase |
Was one shoelace |
A tube sock |
and a tube of toothpaste |
Sometimes, it was cool |
«cause I could go to a friend’s |
Crash there |
Fool around and just skip school |
But other times |
I’d rather just be home |
In my own room alone |
Read my shit and nobody would know |
My little brother s*cked on a bottle |
'Til he was six, |
So I’d hide it inside the couch |
And say «I don’t know where it is,» |
But as soon as Mom found it |
I would either be grounded |
Or kicked out the house |
A thousand weeks |
And still countin' |
Even when I was underage |
Mom was tellin' cops |
I was tryin' to run away |
I told her |
«Someday, b*tch, you’re gonna pay,» |
Please, Mom, Please, Mom, Please, Mom |
I wanna stay, (let me stay) |
Our house |
In the middle of the street |
Our house |
In the middle of the street |
Our house |
In the middle of the street |
Our house |
In the middle of the street |
My brother’s incoherint |
Mom’s a single parent |
Who ain’t carin' |
Starin' through me |
Like I’m transparent |
Made it clear |
That I was just there |
to run an errands |
Told her friends |
I was a son from her last marriage |
Sent me up to the little corner store |
with a little note |
«Please, sell my step-son |
Some cigarettes so I can smoke,» |
One time I tried to fake sick |
To get attention |
Back-fired |
Mom, sent me to school |
With a vengence |
My life’s the worst thing that |
Could ever happen to me |
I go to class |
and every teacher’s always laughin' at me |
And Mom says white rappers are laughed at |
Not only that |
She heard me upstairs |
I can’t rap |
and I’m stupid |
I never make an average |
of a B |
I need to sit on my ass and sue people |
Like she does |
One time, I got food poison |
From a hot dog |
Mom sued and got $ 2,000 |
From Ballpark |
«Hey, Ma. |
You got a dollar?» |
«I don’t think so |
Now keep an eye on your brother |
I’m goin' to bingo.» |
«But, Mom. |
You said you were broke.» |
«Who said? |
You got your ears messed up |
from that damn rap music.» |