[Intro]

Loud noises!

[Verse 1: Eminem]

Life handed me lemons, I jumped back in the public eye

And squirted lemon juice in it, by now, you just wish I’d fuckin’ die

But I electrify, get electrocuted, executed by the execution

Of my flow, too quick for the human eye to detect zoomin’ by

Choom-chigga-choom-choom-choom-choom waa

Yep, yep—guess who, what’s happenin’, guy?

They told me to shit, I fell off that pot

Hopped right back on that crapper and I

Said, “Fuck it,” with a capital I, look who’s back to antag-g-onize

You don’t like it? You can eat shit, fuck off, little faggot, and die

You right back like a magnet on my dick grabbin’ at my

Shit, better get to the back of the line

If you wanna get your shot at me, what kinda crap is that battle?

What kind of rapper would I be

'Fore I let another rapper think he’s hot?

I'll bury my face in his stinky twat and go (*Licking*)

Girl, my head space is limited

Ain’t even room in the back of my mind

That’s why I ain’t thinking about you, I don’t got time

I done told you a thousand times, so how can I find the time

To put an alkaline battery in Royce’s back

And at the same time put juice in mine?

Goddammit, Slaughterhouse is signed!

[Refrain: Crooked I]

Slaughterhouse!

[Verse 2: Crooked I]

I’m a menace villain, my pen is sick and spillin’, my lyrics killin’

Then I let you witness shit when it hit the ceilin’

A nigga’s willin’ to give the listeners the sickest feelin’

Like mixin’ some Benadryl and penicillin, then I’m fillin’ the clip

With a written (Pow!), can you picture my pistol drillin’?

A million women and children when I’m illin’ but it isn’t real

It’s a rap, on the real, it’s a wrap, how could you possibly

Stop the Apocalypse when I’m atomic bombin’ the populace?

Shock the metropolis, hostile as a kid poppin’ the Glock

At his mom’s and his pop’s then he hops in his drop with his iPod

Rockin’ his slaughter-ish documentation of lyrics

I write with confidence, write like a columnist-slash-novelist

I’m in this game to demolish it establish my dominance

Over prominent rappers you poppin’ shit ’til ya opposite

I can spit ominous so spit politics now I’m Haile Selassie, Gandhi And Pac of this hip hop genre, bitch!

[Refrain: Crooked I]

Slaughterhouse!

[Verse 3: Royce da 5’9”]

Lyrically, I’m a cocaine Altoid (Dope)

Ability so brain, it’s a no brain bow, boy (Fresh)

Physically, I’m literally a cocaine cowboy

Wait-wait, did I just go almost four bars

Without talking about my big dick?

The other day me and your thick bitch

Had a great date and we ate cake

And then we walked and then she tried to jack me off but she lost

’Cause she couldn’t handle my Shake Weight

I swear, the irony of Ryan is I am bipolar while I’m rhyming

Standing beside a big ol’, (Big ol’) white bear

Neither one of us fight fair

You are literally looking at Woody and Wesley

In a movie where the white boy ain’t got to jump

Nowhere ’cause I’m here

Nigga I’m on fire, yeah and I’m every bitch’s dream

One, two I’m coming for you, I’m a big ol’, (Big ol’) nightmare

Nigga, this the slaughter, step it up

I’ll pretty much slap your ass and tell you to shut the fuck up

After that, I’ll slap your ass again

And tell you to shut the fuck up shutting up

And that’s how you body a fucking beat (Goodbye)

[Refrain: Crooked I]

Slaughterhouse!

[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]

Uh, I should be the one that goes slow

Nah, get a stopwatch, clock my flow, hit the button on top

Watch your jaw drop, oh-oh, dot-dot, oh, Yaowa

When I drop, I go outer space

Blackout like Darth Vader’s face placed in a molten shower

Say something and get done proper

Mama, Poppa pouring out vodka, mama mia

Em, pass me the scissors

There’s visitors in the Slaughterhouse casa

Better jet, boy, go home, better jet, boy, G4 Chrome

Better jet, boy, Mark Sanchez, Santonio Holmes

I’m not your any old homeboy

Sitting in the lab picking up a pad, I be spitting bad

I’mma get you mad with this gift I have

Little ducks sufferin’ succotash when the trigger blast

I’ma put your beak on your fitted hat

Where the liquor at? Sip a yac bad bitch and a vicious track

I relididax slide Pro-Dools to both

So smooth I coast to the West like where Crooked living at?

New York, here’s a piggy back ride

To the motherland, hold on, brother man

On the other hand, get down, I’m gutter, fam

Gun butt you with the Eagle handle Cunningham

I don’t wanna talk, I just wanna beef, I don’t want a piece

I want it all, baby boy, I don’t wanna eat, I wanna feast

Stuff my cheeks with rough beats and shit

You done, weak, I’m the one, capisce?

[Refrain: Crooked I]

Slaughterhouse!

[Verse 5: Joe Budden]

Uh, insane what they call us, how you married to the game

But you probably shouldn’t have came to the altar

Every bar like propane for the sawed-off

You shoulda hang and they’ll fault ya

Eminem, Mr. Porter, slaughter my sentiments, eminent torture

All of you feminine marauders

They’re swimming that water, men will assault ya

Tommy’s and bats to resemble Lasorda

Kidnap your trembling daughter

At least a quarter, I’m a menacing supporter

It’s got an aura more like Sodom and Gomorrah

Normally, something’s wrong with me

Blame it on quantity of the porn I see on the pawns to me

When I fix the game, y’all think shit came with a warranty

How the fuck are they gonna stop what I was born to be?

Corner me, shit belong to me

Two choices, you can get along with me

Or sit your faggot ass right there in dormancy

Wait, all he missing is heels to be RuPaul

Ain’t nobody that’s real ever knew y’all

And I’m second to none and I’m dealing with bums

Whose time'll never come, now deal with the blue balls

You ain’t gotta fear me but you respect me

Niggas who never met me threaten me, want to Gillette me

Comin’ to a sword fight against a machete

Swinging spaghetti like it’s heavy

Some said he deserve an ESPY, in a Chevy like Andretti

Put the desi where his chest be

[Outro: Crooked I]

Slaughterhouse!