Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Lyrical Murderers , by - Slaughterhouse. Release date: 10.08.2009
Song language: English
Lyrical Murderers |
| «This is the life, we gone!" — |
| «I ain’t with the leanin and rockin |
| That ain’t even seen as a option…" — |
| You’re nothin without (Focus) |
| Woo. |
| Long Beach (lay your seats back) |
| New Jersey (turn your speakers up) |
| Brook-lyn! |
| Detroit! |
| We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers |
| Welcome to the Slaughterhouse |
| (What you talkin 'bout?) |
| Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw |
| We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers |
| Man, we own these streets |
| And the freaks they love us |
| We ain’t worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse) |
| Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim |
| I’m a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10 |
| Pistol at your head if I ain’t next to Eminem |
| Then I bust in your face like I’m fuckin Lil' Kim |
| Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord |
| that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue |
| This is how a killer record |
| with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I’m iller than all |
| Dineri, see I’m a literary genius |
| Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist |
| Most rappers are comedy gold |
| They like they boyfriend’s sodomy hole — they full of SHIT! |
| Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street |
| Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet |
| Where them niggaz is backwards |
| I’m ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. |
| in the baby seat |
| We them copycat killers, unleashin venom |
| Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em |
| Lyrics be high quality |
| Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology |
| Independently pennin the best words that were ever said |
| The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear |
| You can’t hide, we everywhere |
| Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear |
| Yeah |
| Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I’m aware |
| A beast so at your wake I’ll cry lion’s tears |
| And that’s no disrespect to the pioneers |
| If we ain’t who you tryin to hear |
| Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears |
| I came in this game screamin Jers' |
| Ain’t an MC in our lane to try and merge |
| Try and run with our wave |
| But I’m cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage |
| Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint |
| And I’ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point |
| Your run’s over, run with us or get run over |
| I’m here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers |
| This is lyrical murder |
| Me and every track have a physical merger |
| When I stab it in the chest I’ma bit of a curver |
| So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger |
| Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat |
| Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope |
| Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope |
| to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note |
| I’m what no beat’s able to withstand |
| If you suffer from writer’s block and your label got big plans |
| Listen to this fam |
| Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman |