[{"id":25877275,"name":"Slaughterhouse","trackName":"Slaughterhouse","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Slaughterhouse: The Mixtape","duration":421.903673,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Joey what you said, 24 right\nAight cool, I got you\nI define gutter - every time I rhyme\nI climb up another notch, hip-hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother - my mind hovers\nAbove all you jive suckers wishing, that's word to my mother\n\nYou throw a shot at me, I'm throwing a shot back\nYours is on a joint, mine's whistling by your top hat\nYeah, I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lying\nThey fifth is lying in the second drawer next door to some bullshit they iron\n\nY'all be making up stories the little kids is buyin'\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany Lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on a song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong - pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up-and-comers scared\nThe pretty girls go, \"papi, here's my underwear\"\n\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V; you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where the gats go crazy\n\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryna be Pun's successor\nThat term's done fucker, what up whatever\nYou birds is food, I'm about to pluck some feathers\nI'm young and clever, plus clutch under pressure, yup\nWho does this better\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDropping bombs for fun then dine in Hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhyming on or whoever\nI tear 'em apart; swear on my pops\n\nNo, fear in my heart, shit been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff of a brick of hash mixed with acid hits like sick cracker shit\nGet back, dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick-clack, Yung Berged if you flossing ice\n\nDawg, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white when I'm on this mic\nStill mourn at night, don't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the +Chips+ are down like Ponch fallin' off his bike\n\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got 'em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who diddy-boppin\nYou wasn't really, now you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense, I really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolving but grown bitter\nOn your grave they're carvin', \"fucked with the wrong nigga\"\n\nI don't write I kill a pen, leak its blood on the page\nI breathe bars like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage\nA pedophile unless I dig in the crates and fuck with somethin' my age\nForever vow, to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eating the deceased like quiche\n\nOnly when my enemy's internal organs are a smorgasbord in a feast\nThe Dahmer with melanin led 'em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' until fishermen see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan sticking a chicken in my Michelin\nReady to pigeon pitch again from Switzerland to New York\nI was whipping Bentleys before them pictures up in The Source\n\nI'm a gorillas behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talking on some news camera crew's shit\nSicker than flyin' in past tense on some flu shit\nDay-old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n\nTryna keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body, he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here and your ringtone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of Eastside Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street so you can hear my heartbeat\n\nNickel, yeah\nI hope niggas know I'll show up to your show\nI'll show up where you go, show up to your do', fo's will explode\nShells 'fore they hit the floor, I know niggas know\nI got a open window flow, I air shit out\nIn the D they used to call me Mayor Royce\n\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why, \"sheeeeeeeeeeee-it\"\nCause when it come to them words you know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like, white lines on a nose tray\nIce cold Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRidin' shotgun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the White boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay humming like strumming the mandolin violin\nSpeaking of, I done played a tune of violence\nMore than my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go\n\nInto my Maino mode if I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTil it ain't no mo', ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed, I'm a livin' anal probe\nI'm a lame-ophobe, matter fact my nigga JumpOff\nCan I keep goin' (why the fuck not)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a three-eighty\n\nNow I'm spittin sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull the jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly goin' back in time\nAnd dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\nThey say he a bastard for real, then they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why's he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bush rendish\n\nEndless, move more than two inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this or see me mañana\nOr see the speed of a llama, underground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find, pop a E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war, it's like my pet peeve kinda\n\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin' hard, I see vagina - pause\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mine and meet nine, mano-a-mano\nWhen it rains it pours, grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the Desert Eagle, and an eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a boxed wake\nZipper over your head, dudes callin' you Crotchface\nSo y'all could bump \"Swag Like Us\"\n\nBut the next time rap's discussed, add this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass but the fag's might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank all I do is withdraw\nChicks removin' their drawers now, your crew is in awe\n\nHow you ball, your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor, to process it\nI'll set it, I said it\nSo keep running around hot-headed, 'til you get hot leaded\nTil everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, y'all must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless and Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.96] Joey what you said, 24 right\n[00:03.95] Aight cool, I got you\n[00:04.93] I define gutter - every time I rhyme\n[00:07.65] I climb up another notch, hip-hop got my spine smothered\n[00:10.54] But I'll be fine brother - my mind hovers\n[00:12.70] Above all you jive suckers wishing, that's word to my mother\n[00:14.96] You throw a shot at me, I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.88] Yours is on a joint, mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.11] Yeah, I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.78] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:26.55] I'm sick and tired of niggas lying\n[00:28.61] They fifth is lying in the second drawer next door to some bullshit they iron\n[00:30.93] Y'all be making up stories the little kids is buyin'\n[00:34.31] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany Lion\n[00:36.97] I ain't gotta mention the streets on a song\n[00:39.19] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong - pause\n[00:41.59] Veterans co-sign me, the up-and-comers scared\n[00:44.59] The pretty girls go, \"papi, here's my underwear\"\n[00:47.22] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.93] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:52.48] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:55.15] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.74] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[01:00.00] I'm Gucci, Louis V; you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.49] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.92] You're suburb, I'm gutter where the gats go crazy\n[01:07.78] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryna be Pun's successor\n[01:10.55] That term's done fucker, what up whatever\n[01:12.72] You birds is food, I'm about to pluck some feathers\n[01:15.22] I'm young and clever, plus clutch under pressure, yup\n[01:18.22] Who does this better\n[01:20.39] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:23.07] I lust for cheddar you owe me\n[01:25.15] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.54] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.71] Dropping bombs for fun then dine in Hell during Ramadan\n[01:34.05] Whatever I'm rhyming on or whoever\n[01:36.90] I tear 'em apart; swear on my pops\n[01:38.58] No, fear in my heart, shit been through it all\n[01:41.46] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.98] I'm all that and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.74] Off of a brick of hash mixed with acid hits like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.08] Get back, dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.72] Click-clack, Yung Berged if you flossing ice\n[01:55.35] Dawg, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.96] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.61] You soft, I told you I'm raw white when I'm on this mic\n[02:02.55] Still mourn at night, don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.05] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.33] When the +Chips+ are down like Ponch fallin' off his bike\n[02:10.18] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.35] I got 'em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:16.29] What's really poppin', who diddy-boppin\n[02:18.52] You wasn't really, now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.65] I ain't with that silly nonsense, I really pop shit\n[02:23.68] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:26.25] I stay evolving but grown bitter\n[02:28.53] On your grave they're carvin', \"fucked with the wrong nigga\"\n[02:30.73] I don't write I kill a pen, leak its blood on the page\n[02:34.28] I breathe bars like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.95] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage\n[02:37.85] A pedophile unless I dig in the crates and fuck with somethin' my age\n[02:40.57] Forever vow, to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.82] Only when I'm eating the deceased like quiche\n[02:45.81] Only when my enemy's internal organs are a smorgasbord in a feast\n[02:47.81] The Dahmer with melanin led 'em in the belly of the beast\n[02:52.04] You'll be missin' until fishermen see your corpse\n[02:54.06] I'll be in Michigan sticking a chicken in my Michelin\n[02:57.02] Ready to pigeon pitch again from Switzerland to New York\n[02:59.02] I was whipping Bentleys before them pictures up in The Source\n[03:01.73] I'm a gorillas behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.91] Shoot you while you're talking on some news camera crew's shit\n[03:07.57] Sicker than flyin' in past tense on some flu shit\n[03:10.02] Day-old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:12.53] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:15.23] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:17.68] Tryna keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.95] The spiritual you, leavin your body, he don't wanna go back\n[03:22.19] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:24.24] I send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.59] Fuck outta here and your ringtone rap career\n[03:28.37] It's Crooked I, the face of Eastside Long Beach\n[03:31.18] Put your ear to the street so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:33.48] Nickel, yeah\n[03:34.90] I hope niggas know I'll show up to your show\n[03:35.93] I'll show up where you go, show up to your do', fo's will explode\n[03:38.27] Shells 'fore they hit the floor, I know niggas know\n[03:40.16] I got a open window flow, I air shit out\n[03:43.46] In the D they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.51] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.74] Guess why, \"sheeeeeeeeeeee-it\"\n[03:51.72] Cause when it come to them words you know I wear shit out\n[03:53.87] I write rhymes like, white lines on a nose tray\n[03:57.31] Ice cold Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[04:00.55] Ridin' shotgun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.28] Not the White boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:04.83] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.39] Hammers stay humming like strumming the mandolin violin\n[04:10.05] Speaking of, I done played a tune of violence\n[04:12.36] More than my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:14.91] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.18] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:22.57] Dump dirt on you right before I go\n[04:23.39] Into my Maino mode if I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.61] Til it ain't no mo', ain't no dough\n[04:27.70] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed, I'm a livin' anal probe\n[04:30.82] I'm a lame-ophobe, matter fact my nigga JumpOff\n[04:34.09] Can I keep goin' (why the fuck not)\n[04:36.67] When I was a teen, I used to pack a three-eighty\n[04:38.92] Now I'm spittin sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:42.34] I pull the jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.65] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:45.80] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.72] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.54] I'm like Marty McFly goin' back in time\n[04:54.71] And dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.94] They say he a bastard for real, then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.22] So they wonderin', why's he so mad at the world\n[05:01.37] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:04.91] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.03] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.52] I insist your men just, do your best Bush rendish\n[05:13.53] Endless, move more than two inches\n[05:15.41] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:17.84] So end this or see me mañana\n[05:20.28] Or see the speed of a llama, underground prima donna\n[05:24.10] That ain't hard to find, pop a E in a Honda\n[05:25.98] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:28.18] I love war, it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.75] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.44] My dick gettin' hard, I see vagina - pause\n[05:36.29] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.54] Speak mine and meet nine, mano-a-mano\n[05:40.81] When it rains it pours, grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.59] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.05] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.52] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.12] Just me and the Desert Eagle, and an eagle eye\n[05:54.34] Closed casket, now you having a boxed wake\n[05:59.18] Zipper over your head, dudes callin' you Crotchface\n[06:00.04] So y'all could bump \"Swag Like Us\"\n[06:01.68] But the next time rap's discussed, add this as a plus\n[06:04.54] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.64] And would get up in that ass but the fag's might bust\n[06:09.19] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.79] I hit the bank all I do is withdraw\n[06:14.35] Chicks removin' their drawers now, your crew is in awe\n[06:17.64] How you ball, your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:19.41] You gon' need another processor, to process it\n[06:21.63] I'll set it, I said it\n[06:24.76] So keep running around hot-headed, 'til you get hot leaded\n[06:27.25] Til everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:30.25] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.60] Rap what you can't afford, y'all must got credit\n[06:35.56] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless and Joell\n[06:39.80] With Joe spell, NO L\n[06:42.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: 'Slaughterhouse: The Mixtape'\n duration_ms: 421904\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Joey what you said, 24 right\n start_ms: 1960\n end_ms: 3950\n- text: Aight cool, I got you\n start_ms: 3950\n end_ms: 4930\n- text: I define gutter - every time I rhyme\n start_ms: 4930\n end_ms: 7650\n- text: I climb up another notch, hip-hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 7650\n end_ms: 10540\n- text: But I'll be fine brother - my mind hovers\n start_ms: 10540\n end_ms: 12700\n- text: Above all you jive suckers wishing, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 12700\n end_ms: 14960\n- text: You throw a shot at me, I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 14960\n end_ms: 18880\n- text: Yours is on a joint, mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 18880\n end_ms: 21110\n- text: Yeah, I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21110\n end_ms: 23780\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23780\n end_ms: 26550\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lying\n start_ms: 26550\n end_ms: 28610\n- text: They fifth is lying in the second drawer next door to some bullshit they iron\n start_ms: 28610\n end_ms: 30930\n- text: Y'all be making up stories the little kids is buyin'\n start_ms: 30930\n end_ms: 34310\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany Lion\n start_ms: 34310\n end_ms: 36970\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on a song\n start_ms: 36970\n end_ms: 39190\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong - pause\n start_ms: 39190\n end_ms: 41590\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up-and-comers scared\n start_ms: 41590\n end_ms: 44590\n- text: The pretty girls go, \"papi, here's my underwear\"\n start_ms: 44590\n end_ms: 47220\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47220\n end_ms: 49930\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49930\n end_ms: 52480\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 52480\n end_ms: 55150\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 55150\n end_ms: 57740\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57740\n end_ms: 60000\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V; you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 60000\n end_ms: 62490\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62490\n end_ms: 64920\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where the gats go crazy\n start_ms: 64920\n end_ms: 67780\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryna be Pun's successor\n start_ms: 67780\n end_ms: 70550\n- text: That term's done fucker, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70550\n end_ms: 72720\n- text: You birds is food, I'm about to pluck some feathers\n start_ms: 72720\n end_ms: 75220\n- text: I'm young and clever, plus clutch under pressure, yup\n start_ms: 75220\n end_ms: 78220\n- text: Who does this better\n start_ms: 78220\n end_ms: 80390\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 80390\n end_ms: 83070\n- text: I lust for cheddar you owe me\n start_ms: 83070\n end_ms: 85150\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85150\n end_ms: 87540\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87540\n end_ms: 90710\n- text: Dropping bombs for fun then dine in Hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90710\n end_ms: 94050\n- text: Whatever I'm rhyming on or whoever\n start_ms: 94050\n end_ms: 96900\n- text: I tear 'em apart; swear on my pops\n start_ms: 96900\n end_ms: 98580\n- text: No, fear in my heart, shit been through it all\n start_ms: 98580\n end_ms: 101460\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101460\n end_ms: 103980\n- text: I'm all that and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103980\n end_ms: 106740\n- text: Off of a brick of hash mixed with acid hits like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 106740\n end_ms: 110080\n- text: Get back, dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110080\n end_ms: 112720\n- text: Click-clack, Yung Berged if you flossing ice\n start_ms: 112720\n end_ms: 115350\n- text: Dawg, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 115350\n end_ms: 117960\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117960\n end_ms: 119610\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white when I'm on this mic\n start_ms: 119610\n end_ms: 122550\n- text: Still mourn at night, don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 122550\n end_ms: 125050\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125050\n end_ms: 127330\n- text: When the +Chips+ are down like Ponch fallin' off his bike\n start_ms: 127330\n end_ms: 130180\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130180\n end_ms: 133350\n- text: I got 'em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133350\n end_ms: 136290\n- text: What's really poppin', who diddy-boppin\n start_ms: 136290\n end_ms: 138520\n- text: You wasn't really, now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 138520\n end_ms: 140650\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense, I really pop shit\n start_ms: 140650\n end_ms: 143680\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143680\n end_ms: 146250\n- text: I stay evolving but grown bitter\n start_ms: 146250\n end_ms: 148530\n- text: On your grave they're carvin', \"fucked with the wrong nigga\"\n start_ms: 148530\n end_ms: 150730\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen, leak its blood on the page\n start_ms: 150730\n end_ms: 154280\n- text: I breathe bars like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 154280\n end_ms: 155950\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage\n start_ms: 155950\n end_ms: 157850\n- text: A pedophile unless I dig in the crates and fuck with somethin' my age\n start_ms: 157850\n end_ms: 160570\n- text: Forever vow, to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160570\n end_ms: 163820\n- text: Only when I'm eating the deceased like quiche\n start_ms: 163820\n end_ms: 165810\n- text: Only when my enemy's internal organs are a smorgasbord in a feast\n start_ms: 165810\n end_ms: 167810\n- text: The Dahmer with melanin led 'em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 167810\n end_ms: 172040\n- text: You'll be missin' until fishermen see your corpse\n start_ms: 172040\n end_ms: 174060\n- text: I'll be in Michigan sticking a chicken in my Michelin\n start_ms: 174060\n end_ms: 177020\n- text: Ready to pigeon pitch again from Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 177020\n end_ms: 179020\n- text: I was whipping Bentleys before them pictures up in The Source\n start_ms: 179020\n end_ms: 181730\n- text: I'm a gorillas behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 181730\n end_ms: 184910\n- text: Shoot you while you're talking on some news camera crew's shit\n start_ms: 184910\n end_ms: 187570\n- text: Sicker than flyin' in past tense on some flu shit\n start_ms: 187570\n end_ms: 190020\n- text: Day-old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 190020\n end_ms: 192530\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 192530\n end_ms: 195230\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 195230\n end_ms: 197680\n- text: Tryna keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 197680\n end_ms: 199950\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body, he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199950\n end_ms: 202190\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 202190\n end_ms: 204240\n- text: I send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 204240\n end_ms: 205590\n- text: Fuck outta here and your ringtone rap career\n start_ms: 205590\n end_ms: 208370\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of Eastside Long Beach\n start_ms: 208370\n end_ms: 211180\n- text: Put your ear to the street so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 211180\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: Nickel, yeah\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214900\n- text: I hope niggas know I'll show up to your show\n start_ms: 214900\n end_ms: 215930\n- text: I'll show up where you go, show up to your do', fo's will explode\n start_ms: 215930\n end_ms: 218270\n- text: Shells 'fore they hit the floor, I know niggas know\n start_ms: 218270\n end_ms: 220160\n- text: I got a open window flow, I air shit out\n start_ms: 220160\n end_ms: 223460\n- text: In the D they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223460\n end_ms: 226510\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226510\n end_ms: 227740\n- text: Guess why, \"sheeeeeeeeeeee-it\"\n start_ms: 227740\n end_ms: 231720\n- text: Cause when it come to them words you know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 231720\n end_ms: 233870\n- text: I write rhymes like, white lines on a nose tray\n start_ms: 233870\n end_ms: 237310\n- text: Ice cold Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237310\n end_ms: 240550\n- text: Ridin' shotgun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 240550\n end_ms: 242280\n- text: Not the White boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242280\n end_ms: 244830\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 244830\n end_ms: 247390\n- text: Hammers stay humming like strumming the mandolin violin\n start_ms: 247390\n end_ms: 250050\n- text: Speaking of, I done played a tune of violence\n start_ms: 250050\n end_ms: 252360\n- text: More than my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252360\n end_ms: 254910\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 254910\n end_ms: 258180\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258180\n end_ms: 262570\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go\n start_ms: 262570\n end_ms: 263390\n- text: Into my Maino mode if I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263390\n end_ms: 265610\n- text: Til it ain't no mo', ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265610\n end_ms: 267700\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed, I'm a livin' anal probe\n start_ms: 267700\n end_ms: 270820\n- text: I'm a lame-ophobe, matter fact my nigga JumpOff\n start_ms: 270820\n end_ms: 274090\n- text: Can I keep goin' (why the fuck not)\n start_ms: 274090\n end_ms: 276670\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a three-eighty\n start_ms: 276670\n end_ms: 278920\n- text: Now I'm spittin sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278920\n end_ms: 282340\n- text: I pull the jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 282340\n end_ms: 283650\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283650\n end_ms: 285800\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 285800\n end_ms: 288720\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288720\n end_ms: 291540\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly goin' back in time\n start_ms: 291540\n end_ms: 294710\n- text: And dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 294710\n end_ms: 296940\n- text: They say he a bastard for real, then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 296940\n end_ms: 300220\n- text: So they wonderin', why's he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300220\n end_ms: 301370\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301370\n end_ms: 304910\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 304910\n end_ms: 307030\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307030\n end_ms: 309520\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bush rendish\n start_ms: 309520\n end_ms: 313530\n- text: Endless, move more than two inches\n start_ms: 313530\n end_ms: 315410\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315410\n end_ms: 317840\n- text: So end this or see me mañana\n start_ms: 317840\n end_ms: 320280\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama, underground prima donna\n start_ms: 320280\n end_ms: 324100\n- text: That ain't hard to find, pop a E in a Honda\n start_ms: 324100\n end_ms: 325980\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 325980\n end_ms: 328180\n- text: I love war, it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 328180\n end_ms: 330750\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330750\n end_ms: 333440\n- text: My dick gettin' hard, I see vagina - pause\n start_ms: 333440\n end_ms: 336290\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 336290\n end_ms: 338540\n- text: Speak mine and meet nine, mano-a-mano\n start_ms: 338540\n end_ms: 340810\n- text: When it rains it pours, grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340810\n end_ms: 343590\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343590\n end_ms: 346050\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346050\n end_ms: 348520\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348520\n end_ms: 351120\n- text: Just me and the Desert Eagle, and an eagle eye\n start_ms: 351120\n end_ms: 354340\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a boxed wake\n start_ms: 354340\n end_ms: 359180\n- text: Zipper over your head, dudes callin' you Crotchface\n start_ms: 359180\n end_ms: 360040\n- text: So y'all could bump \"Swag Like Us\"\n start_ms: 360040\n end_ms: 361680\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed, add this as a plus\n start_ms: 361680\n end_ms: 364540\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364540\n end_ms: 366640\n- text: And would get up in that ass but the fag's might bust\n start_ms: 366640\n end_ms: 369190\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369190\n end_ms: 371790\n- text: I hit the bank all I do is withdraw\n start_ms: 371790\n end_ms: 374350\n- text: Chicks removin' their drawers now, your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 374350\n end_ms: 377640\n- text: How you ball, your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 377640\n end_ms: 379410\n- text: You gon' need another processor, to process it\n start_ms: 379410\n end_ms: 381630\n- text: I'll set it, I said it\n start_ms: 381630\n end_ms: 384760\n- text: So keep running around hot-headed, 'til you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 384760\n end_ms: 387250\n- text: Til everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387250\n end_ms: 390250\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 390250\n end_ms: 392600\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, y'all must got credit\n start_ms: 392600\n end_ms: 395560\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless and Joell\n start_ms: 395560\n end_ms: 399800\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L\n start_ms: 399800\n end_ms: 402290\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 402290\nplain: |-\n Joey what you said, 24 right\n Aight cool, I got you\n I define gutter - every time I rhyme\n I climb up another notch, hip-hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother - my mind hovers\n Above all you jive suckers wishing, that's word to my mother\n\n You throw a shot at me, I'm throwing a shot back\n Yours is on a joint, mine's whistling by your top hat\n Yeah, I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lying\n They fifth is lying in the second drawer next door to some bullshit they iron\n\n Y'all be making up stories the little kids is buyin'\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany Lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on a song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong - pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up-and-comers scared\n The pretty girls go, \"papi, here's my underwear\"\n\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V; you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where the gats go crazy\n\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryna be Pun's successor\n That term's done fucker, what up whatever\n You birds is food, I'm about to pluck some feathers\n I'm young and clever, plus clutch under pressure, yup\n Who does this better\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Dropping bombs for fun then dine in Hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhyming on or whoever\n I tear 'em apart; swear on my pops\n\n No, fear in my heart, shit been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off of a brick of hash mixed with acid hits like sick cracker shit\n Get back, dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click-clack, Yung Berged if you flossing ice\n\n Dawg, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white when I'm on this mic\n Still mourn at night, don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the +Chips+ are down like Ponch fallin' off his bike\n\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got 'em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who diddy-boppin\n You wasn't really, now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense, I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolving but grown bitter\n On your grave they're carvin', \"fucked with the wrong nigga\"\n\n I don't write I kill a pen, leak its blood on the page\n I breathe bars like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage\n A pedophile unless I dig in the crates and fuck with somethin' my age\n Forever vow, to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eating the deceased like quiche\n\n Only when my enemy's internal organs are a smorgasbord in a feast\n The Dahmer with melanin led 'em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' until fishermen see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan sticking a chicken in my Michelin\n Ready to pigeon pitch again from Switzerland to New York\n I was whipping Bentleys before them pictures up in The Source\n\n I'm a gorillas behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talking on some news camera crew's shit\n Sicker than flyin' in past tense on some flu shit\n Day-old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n\n Tryna keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body, he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here and your ringtone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of Eastside Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n Nickel, yeah\n I hope niggas know I'll show up to your show\n I'll show up where you go, show up to your do', fo's will explode\n Shells 'fore they hit the floor, I know niggas know\n I got a open window flow, I air shit out\n In the D they used to call me Mayor Royce\n\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why, \"sheeeeeeeeeeee-it\"\n Cause when it come to them words you know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like, white lines on a nose tray\n Ice cold Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Ridin' shotgun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the White boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay humming like strumming the mandolin violin\n Speaking of, I done played a tune of violence\n More than my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go\n\n Into my Maino mode if I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Til it ain't no mo', ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed, I'm a livin' anal probe\n I'm a lame-ophobe, matter fact my nigga JumpOff\n Can I keep goin' (why the fuck not)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a three-eighty\n\n Now I'm spittin sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull the jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly goin' back in time\n And dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n They say he a bastard for real, then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why's he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bush rendish\n\n Endless, move more than two inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this or see me mañana\n Or see the speed of a llama, underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find, pop a E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war, it's like my pet peeve kinda\n\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin' hard, I see vagina - pause\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mine and meet nine, mano-a-mano\n When it rains it pours, grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the Desert Eagle, and an eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a boxed wake\n Zipper over your head, dudes callin' you Crotchface\n So y'all could bump \"Swag Like Us\"\n\n But the next time rap's discussed, add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass but the fag's might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank all I do is withdraw\n Chicks removin' their drawers now, your crew is in awe\n\n How you ball, your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor, to process it\n I'll set it, I said it\n So keep running around hot-headed, 'til you get hot leaded\n Til everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, y'all must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless and Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L\n"},{"id":3743497,"name":"Slaughterhouse","trackName":"Slaughterhouse","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Halfway House","duration":422.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Joey what you said, 24 right\nAight cool, I got you\nI define gutter - every time I rhyme\nI climb up another notch, hip-hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother - my mind hovers\nAbove all you jive suckers wishing, that's word to my mother\n\nYou throw a shot at me, I'm throwing a shot back\nYours is on a joint, mine's whistling by your top hat\nYeah, I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lying\nThey fifth is lying in the second drawer next door to some bullshit they iron\n\nY'all be making up stories the little kids is buyin'\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany Lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on a song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong - pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up-and-comers scared\nThe pretty girls go, \"papi, here's my underwear\"\n\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V; you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where the gats go crazy\n\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryna be Pun's successor\nThat term's done fucker, what up whatever\nYou birds is food, I'm about to pluck some feathers\nI'm young and clever, plus clutch under pressure, yup\nWho does this better\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDropping bombs for fun then dine in Hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhyming on or whoever\nI tear 'em apart; swear on my pops\n\nNo, fear in my heart, shit been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff of a brick of hash mixed with acid hits like sick cracker shit\nGet back, dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick-clack, Yung Berged if you flossing ice\n\nDawg, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white when I'm on this mic\nStill mourn at night, don't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the +Chips+ are down like Ponch fallin' off his bike\n\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got 'em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who diddy-boppin\nYou wasn't really, now you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense, I really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolving but grown bitter\nOn your grave they're carvin', \"fucked with the wrong nigga\"\n\nI don't write I kill a pen, leak its blood on the page\nI breathe bars like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage\nA pedophile unless I dig in the crates and fuck with somethin' my age\nForever vow, to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eating the deceased like quiche\n\nOnly when my enemy's internal organs are a smorgasbord in a feast\nThe Dahmer with melanin led 'em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' until fishermen see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan sticking a chicken in my Michelin\nReady to pigeon pitch again from Switzerland to New York\nI was whipping Bentleys before them pictures up in The Source\n\nI'm a gorillas behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talking on some news camera crew's shit\nSicker than flyin' in past tense on some flu shit\nDay-old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n\nTryna keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body, he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here and your ringtone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of Eastside Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street so you can hear my heartbeat\n\nNickel, yeah\nI hope niggas know I'll show up to your show\nI'll show up where you go, show up to your do', fo's will explode\nShells 'fore they hit the floor, I know niggas know\nI got a open window flow, I air shit out\nIn the D they used to call me Mayor Royce\n\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why, \"sheeeeeeeeeeee-it\"\nCause when it come to them words you know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like, white lines on a nose tray\nIce cold Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRidin' shotgun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the White boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay humming like strumming the mandolin violin\nSpeaking of, I done played a tune of violence\nMore than my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go\n\nInto my Maino mode if I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTil it ain't no mo', ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed, I'm a livin' anal probe\nI'm a lame-ophobe, matter fact my nigga JumpOff\nCan I keep goin' (why the fuck not)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a three-eighty\n\nNow I'm spittin sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull the jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly goin' back in time\nAnd dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\nThey say he a bastard for real, then they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why's he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bush rendish\n\nEndless, move more than two inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this or see me mañana\nOr see the speed of a llama, underground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find, pop a E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war, it's like my pet peeve kinda\n\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin' hard, I see vagina - pause\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mine and meet nine, mano-a-mano\nWhen it rains it pours, grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the Desert Eagle, and an eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a boxed wake\nZipper over your head, dudes callin' you Crotchface\nSo y'all could bump \"Swag Like Us\"\n\nBut the next time rap's discussed, add this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass but the fag's might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank all I do is withdraw\nChicks removin' their drawers now, your crew is in awe\n\nHow you ball, your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor, to process it\nI'll set it, I said it\nSo keep running around hot-headed, 'til you get hot leaded\nTil everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, y'all must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless and Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.96] Joey what you said, 24 right\n[00:03.95] Aight cool, I got you\n[00:04.93] I define gutter - every time I rhyme\n[00:07.65] I climb up another notch, hip-hop got my spine smothered\n[00:10.54] But I'll be fine brother - my mind hovers\n[00:12.70] Above all you jive suckers wishing, that's word to my mother\n[00:14.96] You throw a shot at me, I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.88] Yours is on a joint, mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.11] Yeah, I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.78] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:26.55] I'm sick and tired of niggas lying\n[00:28.61] They fifth is lying in the second drawer next door to some bullshit they iron\n[00:30.93] Y'all be making up stories the little kids is buyin'\n[00:34.31] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany Lion\n[00:36.97] I ain't gotta mention the streets on a song\n[00:39.19] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong - pause\n[00:41.59] Veterans co-sign me, the up-and-comers scared\n[00:44.59] The pretty girls go, \"papi, here's my underwear\"\n[00:47.22] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.93] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:52.48] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:55.15] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.74] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[01:00.00] I'm Gucci, Louis V; you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.49] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.92] You're suburb, I'm gutter where the gats go crazy\n[01:07.78] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryna be Pun's successor\n[01:10.55] That term's done fucker, what up whatever\n[01:12.72] You birds is food, I'm about to pluck some feathers\n[01:15.22] I'm young and clever, plus clutch under pressure, yup\n[01:18.22] Who does this better\n[01:20.39] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:23.07] I lust for cheddar you owe me\n[01:25.15] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.54] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.71] Dropping bombs for fun then dine in Hell during Ramadan\n[01:34.05] Whatever I'm rhyming on or whoever\n[01:36.90] I tear 'em apart; swear on my pops\n[01:38.58] No, fear in my heart, shit been through it all\n[01:41.46] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.98] I'm all that and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.74] Off of a brick of hash mixed with acid hits like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.08] Get back, dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.72] Click-clack, Yung Berged if you flossing ice\n[01:55.35] Dawg, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.96] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.61] You soft, I told you I'm raw white when I'm on this mic\n[02:02.55] Still mourn at night, don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.05] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.33] When the +Chips+ are down like Ponch fallin' off his bike\n[02:10.18] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.35] I got 'em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:16.29] What's really poppin', who diddy-boppin\n[02:18.52] You wasn't really, now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.65] I ain't with that silly nonsense, I really pop shit\n[02:23.68] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:26.25] I stay evolving but grown bitter\n[02:28.53] On your grave they're carvin', \"fucked with the wrong nigga\"\n[02:30.73] I don't write I kill a pen, leak its blood on the page\n[02:34.28] I breathe bars like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.95] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage\n[02:37.85] A pedophile unless I dig in the crates and fuck with somethin' my age\n[02:40.57] Forever vow, to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.82] Only when I'm eating the deceased like quiche\n[02:45.81] Only when my enemy's internal organs are a smorgasbord in a feast\n[02:47.81] The Dahmer with melanin led 'em in the belly of the beast\n[02:52.04] You'll be missin' until fishermen see your corpse\n[02:54.06] I'll be in Michigan sticking a chicken in my Michelin\n[02:57.02] Ready to pigeon pitch again from Switzerland to New York\n[02:59.02] I was whipping Bentleys before them pictures up in The Source\n[03:01.73] I'm a gorillas behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.91] Shoot you while you're talking on some news camera crew's shit\n[03:07.57] Sicker than flyin' in past tense on some flu shit\n[03:10.02] Day-old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:12.53] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:15.23] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:17.68] Tryna keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.95] The spiritual you, leavin your body, he don't wanna go back\n[03:22.19] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:24.24] I send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.59] Fuck outta here and your ringtone rap career\n[03:28.37] It's Crooked I, the face of Eastside Long Beach\n[03:31.18] Put your ear to the street so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:33.48] Nickel, yeah\n[03:34.90] I hope niggas know I'll show up to your show\n[03:35.93] I'll show up where you go, show up to your do', fo's will explode\n[03:38.27] Shells 'fore they hit the floor, I know niggas know\n[03:40.16] I got a open window flow, I air shit out\n[03:43.46] In the D they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.51] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.74] Guess why, \"sheeeeeeeeeeee-it\"\n[03:51.72] Cause when it come to them words you know I wear shit out\n[03:53.87] I write rhymes like, white lines on a nose tray\n[03:57.31] Ice cold Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[04:00.55] Ridin' shotgun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.28] Not the White boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:04.83] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.39] Hammers stay humming like strumming the mandolin violin\n[04:10.05] Speaking of, I done played a tune of violence\n[04:12.36] More than my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:14.91] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.18] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:22.57] Dump dirt on you right before I go\n[04:23.39] Into my Maino mode if I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.61] Til it ain't no mo', ain't no dough\n[04:27.70] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed, I'm a livin' anal probe\n[04:30.82] I'm a lame-ophobe, matter fact my nigga JumpOff\n[04:34.09] Can I keep goin' (why the fuck not)\n[04:36.67] When I was a teen, I used to pack a three-eighty\n[04:38.92] Now I'm spittin sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:42.34] I pull the jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.65] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:45.80] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.72] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.54] I'm like Marty McFly goin' back in time\n[04:54.71] And dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.94] They say he a bastard for real, then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.22] So they wonderin', why's he so mad at the world\n[05:01.37] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:04.91] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.03] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.52] I insist your men just, do your best Bush rendish\n[05:13.53] Endless, move more than two inches\n[05:15.41] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:17.84] So end this or see me mañana\n[05:20.28] Or see the speed of a llama, underground prima donna\n[05:24.10] That ain't hard to find, pop a E in a Honda\n[05:25.98] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:28.18] I love war, it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.75] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.44] My dick gettin' hard, I see vagina - pause\n[05:36.29] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.54] Speak mine and meet nine, mano-a-mano\n[05:40.81] When it rains it pours, grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.59] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.05] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.52] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.12] Just me and the Desert Eagle, and an eagle eye\n[05:54.34] Closed casket, now you having a boxed wake\n[05:59.18] Zipper over your head, dudes callin' you Crotchface\n[06:00.04] So y'all could bump \"Swag Like Us\"\n[06:01.68] But the next time rap's discussed, add this as a plus\n[06:04.54] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.64] And would get up in that ass but the fag's might bust\n[06:09.19] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.79] I hit the bank all I do is withdraw\n[06:14.35] Chicks removin' their drawers now, your crew is in awe\n[06:17.64] How you ball, your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:19.41] You gon' need another processor, to process it\n[06:21.63] I'll set it, I said it\n[06:24.76] So keep running around hot-headed, 'til you get hot leaded\n[06:27.25] Til everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:30.25] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.60] Rap what you can't afford, y'all must got credit\n[06:35.56] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless and Joell\n[06:39.80] With Joe spell, NO L\n[06:42.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: Halfway House\n duration_ms: 422000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Joey what you said, 24 right\n start_ms: 1960\n end_ms: 3950\n- text: Aight cool, I got you\n start_ms: 3950\n end_ms: 4930\n- text: I define gutter - every time I rhyme\n start_ms: 4930\n end_ms: 7650\n- text: I climb up another notch, hip-hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 7650\n end_ms: 10540\n- text: But I'll be fine brother - my mind hovers\n start_ms: 10540\n end_ms: 12700\n- text: Above all you jive suckers wishing, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 12700\n end_ms: 14960\n- text: You throw a shot at me, I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 14960\n end_ms: 18880\n- text: Yours is on a joint, mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 18880\n end_ms: 21110\n- text: Yeah, I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21110\n end_ms: 23780\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23780\n end_ms: 26550\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lying\n start_ms: 26550\n end_ms: 28610\n- text: They fifth is lying in the second drawer next door to some bullshit they iron\n start_ms: 28610\n end_ms: 30930\n- text: Y'all be making up stories the little kids is buyin'\n start_ms: 30930\n end_ms: 34310\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany Lion\n start_ms: 34310\n end_ms: 36970\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on a song\n start_ms: 36970\n end_ms: 39190\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong - pause\n start_ms: 39190\n end_ms: 41590\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up-and-comers scared\n start_ms: 41590\n end_ms: 44590\n- text: The pretty girls go, \"papi, here's my underwear\"\n start_ms: 44590\n end_ms: 47220\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47220\n end_ms: 49930\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49930\n end_ms: 52480\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 52480\n end_ms: 55150\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 55150\n end_ms: 57740\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57740\n end_ms: 60000\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V; you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 60000\n end_ms: 62490\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62490\n end_ms: 64920\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where the gats go crazy\n start_ms: 64920\n end_ms: 67780\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryna be Pun's successor\n start_ms: 67780\n end_ms: 70550\n- text: That term's done fucker, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70550\n end_ms: 72720\n- text: You birds is food, I'm about to pluck some feathers\n start_ms: 72720\n end_ms: 75220\n- text: I'm young and clever, plus clutch under pressure, yup\n start_ms: 75220\n end_ms: 78220\n- text: Who does this better\n start_ms: 78220\n end_ms: 80390\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 80390\n end_ms: 83070\n- text: I lust for cheddar you owe me\n start_ms: 83070\n end_ms: 85150\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85150\n end_ms: 87540\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87540\n end_ms: 90710\n- text: Dropping bombs for fun then dine in Hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90710\n end_ms: 94050\n- text: Whatever I'm rhyming on or whoever\n start_ms: 94050\n end_ms: 96900\n- text: I tear 'em apart; swear on my pops\n start_ms: 96900\n end_ms: 98580\n- text: No, fear in my heart, shit been through it all\n start_ms: 98580\n end_ms: 101460\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101460\n end_ms: 103980\n- text: I'm all that and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103980\n end_ms: 106740\n- text: Off of a brick of hash mixed with acid hits like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 106740\n end_ms: 110080\n- text: Get back, dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110080\n end_ms: 112720\n- text: Click-clack, Yung Berged if you flossing ice\n start_ms: 112720\n end_ms: 115350\n- text: Dawg, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 115350\n end_ms: 117960\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117960\n end_ms: 119610\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white when I'm on this mic\n start_ms: 119610\n end_ms: 122550\n- text: Still mourn at night, don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 122550\n end_ms: 125050\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125050\n end_ms: 127330\n- text: When the +Chips+ are down like Ponch fallin' off his bike\n start_ms: 127330\n end_ms: 130180\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130180\n end_ms: 133350\n- text: I got 'em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133350\n end_ms: 136290\n- text: What's really poppin', who diddy-boppin\n start_ms: 136290\n end_ms: 138520\n- text: You wasn't really, now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 138520\n end_ms: 140650\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense, I really pop shit\n start_ms: 140650\n end_ms: 143680\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143680\n end_ms: 146250\n- text: I stay evolving but grown bitter\n start_ms: 146250\n end_ms: 148530\n- text: On your grave they're carvin', \"fucked with the wrong nigga\"\n start_ms: 148530\n end_ms: 150730\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen, leak its blood on the page\n start_ms: 150730\n end_ms: 154280\n- text: I breathe bars like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 154280\n end_ms: 155950\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage\n start_ms: 155950\n end_ms: 157850\n- text: A pedophile unless I dig in the crates and fuck with somethin' my age\n start_ms: 157850\n end_ms: 160570\n- text: Forever vow, to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160570\n end_ms: 163820\n- text: Only when I'm eating the deceased like quiche\n start_ms: 163820\n end_ms: 165810\n- text: Only when my enemy's internal organs are a smorgasbord in a feast\n start_ms: 165810\n end_ms: 167810\n- text: The Dahmer with melanin led 'em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 167810\n end_ms: 172040\n- text: You'll be missin' until fishermen see your corpse\n start_ms: 172040\n end_ms: 174060\n- text: I'll be in Michigan sticking a chicken in my Michelin\n start_ms: 174060\n end_ms: 177020\n- text: Ready to pigeon pitch again from Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 177020\n end_ms: 179020\n- text: I was whipping Bentleys before them pictures up in The Source\n start_ms: 179020\n end_ms: 181730\n- text: I'm a gorillas behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 181730\n end_ms: 184910\n- text: Shoot you while you're talking on some news camera crew's shit\n start_ms: 184910\n end_ms: 187570\n- text: Sicker than flyin' in past tense on some flu shit\n start_ms: 187570\n end_ms: 190020\n- text: Day-old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 190020\n end_ms: 192530\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 192530\n end_ms: 195230\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 195230\n end_ms: 197680\n- text: Tryna keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 197680\n end_ms: 199950\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body, he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199950\n end_ms: 202190\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 202190\n end_ms: 204240\n- text: I send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 204240\n end_ms: 205590\n- text: Fuck outta here and your ringtone rap career\n start_ms: 205590\n end_ms: 208370\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of Eastside Long Beach\n start_ms: 208370\n end_ms: 211180\n- text: Put your ear to the street so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 211180\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: Nickel, yeah\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214900\n- text: I hope niggas know I'll show up to your show\n start_ms: 214900\n end_ms: 215930\n- text: I'll show up where you go, show up to your do', fo's will explode\n start_ms: 215930\n end_ms: 218270\n- text: Shells 'fore they hit the floor, I know niggas know\n start_ms: 218270\n end_ms: 220160\n- text: I got a open window flow, I air shit out\n start_ms: 220160\n end_ms: 223460\n- text: In the D they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223460\n end_ms: 226510\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226510\n end_ms: 227740\n- text: Guess why, \"sheeeeeeeeeeee-it\"\n start_ms: 227740\n end_ms: 231720\n- text: Cause when it come to them words you know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 231720\n end_ms: 233870\n- text: I write rhymes like, white lines on a nose tray\n start_ms: 233870\n end_ms: 237310\n- text: Ice cold Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237310\n end_ms: 240550\n- text: Ridin' shotgun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 240550\n end_ms: 242280\n- text: Not the White boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242280\n end_ms: 244830\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 244830\n end_ms: 247390\n- text: Hammers stay humming like strumming the mandolin violin\n start_ms: 247390\n end_ms: 250050\n- text: Speaking of, I done played a tune of violence\n start_ms: 250050\n end_ms: 252360\n- text: More than my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252360\n end_ms: 254910\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 254910\n end_ms: 258180\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258180\n end_ms: 262570\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go\n start_ms: 262570\n end_ms: 263390\n- text: Into my Maino mode if I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263390\n end_ms: 265610\n- text: Til it ain't no mo', ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265610\n end_ms: 267700\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed, I'm a livin' anal probe\n start_ms: 267700\n end_ms: 270820\n- text: I'm a lame-ophobe, matter fact my nigga JumpOff\n start_ms: 270820\n end_ms: 274090\n- text: Can I keep goin' (why the fuck not)\n start_ms: 274090\n end_ms: 276670\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a three-eighty\n start_ms: 276670\n end_ms: 278920\n- text: Now I'm spittin sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278920\n end_ms: 282340\n- text: I pull the jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 282340\n end_ms: 283650\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283650\n end_ms: 285800\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 285800\n end_ms: 288720\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288720\n end_ms: 291540\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly goin' back in time\n start_ms: 291540\n end_ms: 294710\n- text: And dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 294710\n end_ms: 296940\n- text: They say he a bastard for real, then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 296940\n end_ms: 300220\n- text: So they wonderin', why's he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300220\n end_ms: 301370\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301370\n end_ms: 304910\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 304910\n end_ms: 307030\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307030\n end_ms: 309520\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bush rendish\n start_ms: 309520\n end_ms: 313530\n- text: Endless, move more than two inches\n start_ms: 313530\n end_ms: 315410\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315410\n end_ms: 317840\n- text: So end this or see me mañana\n start_ms: 317840\n end_ms: 320280\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama, underground prima donna\n start_ms: 320280\n end_ms: 324100\n- text: That ain't hard to find, pop a E in a Honda\n start_ms: 324100\n end_ms: 325980\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 325980\n end_ms: 328180\n- text: I love war, it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 328180\n end_ms: 330750\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330750\n end_ms: 333440\n- text: My dick gettin' hard, I see vagina - pause\n start_ms: 333440\n end_ms: 336290\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 336290\n end_ms: 338540\n- text: Speak mine and meet nine, mano-a-mano\n start_ms: 338540\n end_ms: 340810\n- text: When it rains it pours, grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340810\n end_ms: 343590\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343590\n end_ms: 346050\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346050\n end_ms: 348520\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348520\n end_ms: 351120\n- text: Just me and the Desert Eagle, and an eagle eye\n start_ms: 351120\n end_ms: 354340\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a boxed wake\n start_ms: 354340\n end_ms: 359180\n- text: Zipper over your head, dudes callin' you Crotchface\n start_ms: 359180\n end_ms: 360040\n- text: So y'all could bump \"Swag Like Us\"\n start_ms: 360040\n end_ms: 361680\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed, add this as a plus\n start_ms: 361680\n end_ms: 364540\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364540\n end_ms: 366640\n- text: And would get up in that ass but the fag's might bust\n start_ms: 366640\n end_ms: 369190\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369190\n end_ms: 371790\n- text: I hit the bank all I do is withdraw\n start_ms: 371790\n end_ms: 374350\n- text: Chicks removin' their drawers now, your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 374350\n end_ms: 377640\n- text: How you ball, your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 377640\n end_ms: 379410\n- text: You gon' need another processor, to process it\n start_ms: 379410\n end_ms: 381630\n- text: I'll set it, I said it\n start_ms: 381630\n end_ms: 384760\n- text: So keep running around hot-headed, 'til you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 384760\n end_ms: 387250\n- text: Til everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387250\n end_ms: 390250\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 390250\n end_ms: 392600\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, y'all must got credit\n start_ms: 392600\n end_ms: 395560\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless and Joell\n start_ms: 395560\n end_ms: 399800\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L\n start_ms: 399800\n end_ms: 402290\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 402290\nplain: |-\n Joey what you said, 24 right\n Aight cool, I got you\n I define gutter - every time I rhyme\n I climb up another notch, hip-hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother - my mind hovers\n Above all you jive suckers wishing, that's word to my mother\n\n You throw a shot at me, I'm throwing a shot back\n Yours is on a joint, mine's whistling by your top hat\n Yeah, I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lying\n They fifth is lying in the second drawer next door to some bullshit they iron\n\n Y'all be making up stories the little kids is buyin'\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany Lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on a song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong - pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up-and-comers scared\n The pretty girls go, \"papi, here's my underwear\"\n\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V; you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where the gats go crazy\n\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryna be Pun's successor\n That term's done fucker, what up whatever\n You birds is food, I'm about to pluck some feathers\n I'm young and clever, plus clutch under pressure, yup\n Who does this better\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Dropping bombs for fun then dine in Hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhyming on or whoever\n I tear 'em apart; swear on my pops\n\n No, fear in my heart, shit been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off of a brick of hash mixed with acid hits like sick cracker shit\n Get back, dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click-clack, Yung Berged if you flossing ice\n\n Dawg, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white when I'm on this mic\n Still mourn at night, don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the +Chips+ are down like Ponch fallin' off his bike\n\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got 'em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who diddy-boppin\n You wasn't really, now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense, I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolving but grown bitter\n On your grave they're carvin', \"fucked with the wrong nigga\"\n\n I don't write I kill a pen, leak its blood on the page\n I breathe bars like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage\n A pedophile unless I dig in the crates and fuck with somethin' my age\n Forever vow, to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eating the deceased like quiche\n\n Only when my enemy's internal organs are a smorgasbord in a feast\n The Dahmer with melanin led 'em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' until fishermen see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan sticking a chicken in my Michelin\n Ready to pigeon pitch again from Switzerland to New York\n I was whipping Bentleys before them pictures up in The Source\n\n I'm a gorillas behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talking on some news camera crew's shit\n Sicker than flyin' in past tense on some flu shit\n Day-old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n\n Tryna keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body, he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here and your ringtone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of Eastside Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n Nickel, yeah\n I hope niggas know I'll show up to your show\n I'll show up where you go, show up to your do', fo's will explode\n Shells 'fore they hit the floor, I know niggas know\n I got a open window flow, I air shit out\n In the D they used to call me Mayor Royce\n\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why, \"sheeeeeeeeeeee-it\"\n Cause when it come to them words you know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like, white lines on a nose tray\n Ice cold Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Ridin' shotgun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the White boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay humming like strumming the mandolin violin\n Speaking of, I done played a tune of violence\n More than my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go\n\n Into my Maino mode if I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Til it ain't no mo', ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed, I'm a livin' anal probe\n I'm a lame-ophobe, matter fact my nigga JumpOff\n Can I keep goin' (why the fuck not)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a three-eighty\n\n Now I'm spittin sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull the jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly goin' back in time\n And dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n They say he a bastard for real, then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why's he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bush rendish\n\n Endless, move more than two inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this or see me mañana\n Or see the speed of a llama, underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find, pop a E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war, it's like my pet peeve kinda\n\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin' hard, I see vagina - pause\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mine and meet nine, mano-a-mano\n When it rains it pours, grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the Desert Eagle, and an eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a boxed wake\n Zipper over your head, dudes callin' you Crotchface\n So y'all could bump \"Swag Like Us\"\n\n But the next time rap's discussed, add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass but the fag's might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank all I do is withdraw\n Chicks removin' their drawers now, your crew is in awe\n\n How you ball, your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor, to process it\n I'll set it, I said it\n So keep running around hot-headed, 'til you get hot leaded\n Til everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, y'all must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless and Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L\n"},{"id":32640258,"name":"Blood on the Wall","trackName":"Blood on the Wall","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Slaughterhouse: The Mixtape","duration":245.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"How many niggaz fell victim to the streets\nRest in peace lil nigga this is heaven for a g\nI'd be a liar if I told you I that never thought of death\nMy nigga we the last ones left\nhow many niggaz fell victim to the streets\nRest in peace young nigga this is heaven for a..\nI'd be a liar if I told you I that never thought of death\nMy nigga we the last ones left\nbut life goes on\nand I ain't gonna stop til a nigga see blood on the wall\nmaybe it started with the rims on the whip\nI lost a hummer pushed the benz through the strip\nI'll swim with the fish before I lend niggaz shit\n'cause personally they ain't worth the phlegm that I spit\nThat's why sometimes I think the ends coming quick\nMy old ass father shot twins out his dick\nSo if they so happen to come up without an older brother\nWon't be alone 'cause comin up at least they'll have each other\nAt least they'll have one another 'cause lifes a motherfucker\nBut while I'm here my only job is not to see em suffer\nThrough dopeboys shootouts stickups and undercovers\nThe world is full of suckers but don't worry I'm your buffer\nBuffer like I shoulda been for bj\nBut he never listened to nuthin we say\nIt was half past 12 midnight on a weekday\nNot even 20 hours past his release date\nThis nigga hit him up four times\nOne hit the heart\nAnd that hit my heart\nCalled his pops niggaz pick the phone up\nSo he come find his son lying in his own blood\nOn that block that we ran through\nHouse we grew up in corner we would post on\nShot dead in front of niggaz we would be with\nSo how the fuck nobody see shit\nAnd so I'm there to be a brother to his brother lucky\n'cause in the belly of the beast I know this shit get ugly\nGet on my knees and have a convo with the lord above me\nMaybe sometimes I hear it wrong and think he's sayin fuck me\nOnly he can judge me careless what they think about me\n'cause honestly I'd be aight if no one ever loved me\nI write I only fear joe in blood smeared slow on my brain\nBy my earlobe\nand I ain't gonna stop til a nigga see blood on the wall\nall I tried do is raised the bar\nSee my weeks is scabbed up days are scarred\nStill I love to see a motherfucker hate from far\nMore they talk bout me the more I pray for y'all\nI mean\nI don't get how prodigy gon acknowledge me\nWhen the nigga bout as big as an apostrophe\nFor him to possibly think that he as hot as me\nIts far from a prophecy more like a mockery\nUsed to be hiphop to me 'fore you bombarded me\nWith everything ass like sodimy its gotta be\nDrugs four fifths and snubs what's that about\nNigga you can't lift the guns that you rappin bout\nReal talk I can't front on your old shit\nNow you just old as shit, now old and sick\nInstead of holdin my dick here's a better way\nNevermind me worry bout your medicade\nShits so unfair nigga beefs carried your ass your whole career\nWanna blog? here's a reason\nHow the fucks murda muzik\nAnybody ever dissed this nigga is still breathin\nJayz saigon nas already peeled him\nTupac he ain't alive but you ain't kill him\n50 signs the bum only 'cause where he was from\nPut his stamp on a nigga and still nobody feels him\nNot a murderer or gangsta robber\nWashed up 90's nigga now a gangsta blogger\nMe that underground flow strike like the pound blow\nYour sounds old, not even worth a download\nI would have niggaz hunt you like a hounds nose\nProblem is you pussy the whole town knows\nSo why let the body count grow\nFor some fiended out nigga now starring in the clown show","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Blood on the Wall\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: 'Slaughterhouse: The Mixtape'\n duration_ms: 245000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n How many niggaz fell victim to the streets\n Rest in peace lil nigga this is heaven for a g\n I'd be a liar if I told you I that never thought of death\n My nigga we the last ones left\n how many niggaz fell victim to the streets\n Rest in peace young nigga this is heaven for a..\n I'd be a liar if I told you I that never thought of death\n My nigga we the last ones left\n but life goes on\n and I ain't gonna stop til a nigga see blood on the wall\n maybe it started with the rims on the whip\n I lost a hummer pushed the benz through the strip\n I'll swim with the fish before I lend niggaz shit\n 'cause personally they ain't worth the phlegm that I spit\n That's why sometimes I think the ends coming quick\n My old ass father shot twins out his dick\n So if they so happen to come up without an older brother\n Won't be alone 'cause comin up at least they'll have each other\n At least they'll have one another 'cause lifes a motherfucker\n But while I'm here my only job is not to see em suffer\n Through dopeboys shootouts stickups and undercovers\n The world is full of suckers but don't worry I'm your buffer\n Buffer like I shoulda been for bj\n But he never listened to nuthin we say\n It was half past 12 midnight on a weekday\n Not even 20 hours past his release date\n This nigga hit him up four times\n One hit the heart\n And that hit my heart\n Called his pops niggaz pick the phone up\n So he come find his son lying in his own blood\n On that block that we ran through\n House we grew up in corner we would post on\n Shot dead in front of niggaz we would be with\n So how the fuck nobody see shit\n And so I'm there to be a brother to his brother lucky\n 'cause in the belly of the beast I know this shit get ugly\n Get on my knees and have a convo with the lord above me\n Maybe sometimes I hear it wrong and think he's sayin fuck me\n Only he can judge me careless what they think about me\n 'cause honestly I'd be aight if no one ever loved me\n I write I only fear joe in blood smeared slow on my brain\n By my earlobe\n and I ain't gonna stop til a nigga see blood on the wall\n all I tried do is raised the bar\n See my weeks is scabbed up days are scarred\n Still I love to see a motherfucker hate from far\n More they talk bout me the more I pray for y'all\n I mean\n I don't get how prodigy gon acknowledge me\n When the nigga bout as big as an apostrophe\n For him to possibly think that he as hot as me\n Its far from a prophecy more like a mockery\n Used to be hiphop to me 'fore you bombarded me\n With everything ass like sodimy its gotta be\n Drugs four fifths and snubs what's that about\n Nigga you can't lift the guns that you rappin bout\n Real talk I can't front on your old shit\n Now you just old as shit, now old and sick\n Instead of holdin my dick here's a better way\n Nevermind me worry bout your medicade\n Shits so unfair nigga beefs carried your ass your whole career\n Wanna blog? here's a reason\n How the fucks murda muzik\n Anybody ever dissed this nigga is still breathin\n Jayz saigon nas already peeled him\n Tupac he ain't alive but you ain't kill him\n 50 signs the bum only 'cause where he was from\n Put his stamp on a nigga and still nobody feels him\n Not a murderer or gangsta robber\n Washed up 90's nigga now a gangsta blogger\n Me that underground flow strike like the pound blow\n Your sounds old, not even worth a download\n I would have niggaz hunt you like a hounds nose\n Problem is you pussy the whole town knows\n So why let the body count grow\n For some fiended out nigga now starring in the clown show\n"},{"id":31528722,"name":"Go to Hell","trackName":"Go to Hell","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Slaughterhouse: The Mixtape","duration":226.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[Verse 1:]\nStill regular, just stuck in a rapper's body\nMade some bread off this shit, but still, raps a hobby\nI never got a invite, I had to crash the party\nNow it's just models inside him at the after party\nI set trends, here's something for the fags to copy\nSucceeding, everybody from the past get's salty\nI get in the booth and own that bitch\nWon't stop til all my brothers are Jonas rich or wealthy\nNot rich, fuck it... see I aspire to be Mr. Buffet\nWarren, not from just touring\nI used to grind, hustle hard for some hot Jordan's\nTil my mind went beyond and all that got boring\nThe streets watching, but it's outlook is not important\nI'm trying to pocket a fortune without the stocks soaring\nIf you ain't into getting paper let it be\nJust know were too parallel to every meet\nThink about it now...\n\n[Hook: Sampled]\n\n[Verse 2:]\nThey say he can't come to the hood, he got ran out\nHow's he living so good? His money should've ran out\nFigured he'd be thirsty for a hand out, or living at his mans house\nNone of that ever panned out\nCall him fake as, say \"he as fake as, his girl's fake ass\"\nSay \"we don't hear him on the radio and he ain't been out in so long\"\n\"Dude can't even rap\", you couldn't be so wrong\nGot a different type of censorship,\nSo whatever I'm blessed with, I don't mention it\nThat shit is soft and my motto is when you get inside the end zone...\nAct like you've been there before\nSays something about your character to always brag\nSo if you never had, act like you always have, forreal\nHere's something to ahear to be careful\nCause with so much dick in your mouth it's hard to hear you\nPause!\n\n[Hook]\n\n[Verse 3:]\nThey say don't argue with fools, me I do it for debate sake\nI'm the nigga that embrace hate\nTake a minute, think about how much ya cake weigh?\nThen know I'm on your mind having a great stay\nActually, I hope to never have to vacate\nYou see I'm much more vaca then AK\nHow you premeditate hate?\nAt least have the balls to may say when a nigga face to face\nLet's see if you still wanna disrespect the king/savior\nI'll introduce you, in case you never seen a razor\nAll that mean behavior have whatspoppin dot net at ya wake\nAnd use ya pic for my screensaver\nSee I ain't losing the sleep\nYou a small piece of bark and I'm on to the whole tree\nAnd please, know there's never been a nigga more \"I don't give a fuck\" then Joe\nEven before the show biz\n\n[Hook]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Go to Hell\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: 'Slaughterhouse: The Mixtape'\n duration_ms: 226000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n [Verse 1:]\n Still regular, just stuck in a rapper's body\n Made some bread off this shit, but still, raps a hobby\n I never got a invite, I had to crash the party\n Now it's just models inside him at the after party\n I set trends, here's something for the fags to copy\n Succeeding, everybody from the past get's salty\n I get in the booth and own that bitch\n Won't stop til all my brothers are Jonas rich or wealthy\n Not rich, fuck it... see I aspire to be Mr. Buffet\n Warren, not from just touring\n I used to grind, hustle hard for some hot Jordan's\n Til my mind went beyond and all that got boring\n The streets watching, but it's outlook is not important\n I'm trying to pocket a fortune without the stocks soaring\n If you ain't into getting paper let it be\n Just know were too parallel to every meet\n Think about it now...\n\n [Hook: Sampled]\n\n [Verse 2:]\n They say he can't come to the hood, he got ran out\n How's he living so good? His money should've ran out\n Figured he'd be thirsty for a hand out, or living at his mans house\n None of that ever panned out\n Call him fake as, say \"he as fake as, his girl's fake ass\"\n Say \"we don't hear him on the radio and he ain't been out in so long\"\n \"Dude can't even rap\", you couldn't be so wrong\n Got a different type of censorship,\n So whatever I'm blessed with, I don't mention it\n That shit is soft and my motto is when you get inside the end zone...\n Act like you've been there before\n Says something about your character to always brag\n So if you never had, act like you always have, forreal\n Here's something to ahear to be careful\n Cause with so much dick in your mouth it's hard to hear you\n Pause!\n\n [Hook]\n\n [Verse 3:]\n They say don't argue with fools, me I do it for debate sake\n I'm the nigga that embrace hate\n Take a minute, think about how much ya cake weigh?\n Then know I'm on your mind having a great stay\n Actually, I hope to never have to vacate\n You see I'm much more vaca then AK\n How you premeditate hate?\n At least have the balls to may say when a nigga face to face\n Let's see if you still wanna disrespect the king/savior\n I'll introduce you, in case you never seen a razor\n All that mean behavior have whatspoppin dot net at ya wake\n And use ya pic for my screensaver\n See I ain't losing the sleep\n You a small piece of bark and I'm on to the whole tree\n And please, know there's never been a nigga more \"I don't give a fuck\" then Joe\n Even before the show biz\n\n [Hook]\n"},{"id":6232959,"name":"We Outta Here (feat. Slaughterhouse)","trackName":"We Outta Here (feat. Slaughterhouse)","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Escape Route","duration":285.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Feat. Royce Da 5'9\", Joell Ortiz, Crooked I)\n[Intro: Royce]\nYour left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\nYour right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n[Gunfire]\nYour left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\nYour right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n[Whistle blows]\n\n[Female] Slaughter\n\n[Royce Da 5'9\"]\nPoppa-Poppa Pistol stuck his dick in Momma Missile\nAnd created Mr. Got-to-Get-You if he opposite just split\nYou niggaz bitches cranberry like a vodka mixer\nWhippin bitches niggaz black, ass like a cotton picker\nBomb through debris - I'm holdin two pistols\nIn the form of a crosshair, I am armed to the T\nI put on for my city, I take off for whoever\nThink I'm soft for my job of rappin, go back to clappin\nBack to illin, back to dealin, back to coc-a-ina\nUp the nose, that's the feelin, sky the limit, that's the ceilin\nAnd the women is the whores, puttin numbers up for sales\nIt's the score into hell, it's the feel, it's the feel\n\n[Chorus: Royce Da 5'9\" - singing with AutoTune]\nI can make noise when the gat blowwwww-ooooooh-oooh\nThe Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blowwwww-ohhhhh-ooooh\nIt's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouuuuuuuse\nWe outta here, we outta here, we outta here\nIt's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouse\nWe outta here, we outta here, we outta\n\n[Joe Budden]\n[Starts off screwed] I live my life like a hood bopper\nTouched by evil, all about bread and evil\nRegular people lookin like bread to eagles with the desert eagle\nCordially they forcin me to act accordingly\nWhen according to me my thoughts disorderly just like they outta be\nIt's more to me in accord to me\nJust mad at the smoke and the mirrors, image, perceptions and the forgery\nEverything is a fraud to me\nSo until the boys wake up, me and my boys make up\nBe with the toy sprayers, aimin noise makers at the noise makers (blam)\nBest group ever, group of whoever who do it better\nBets placed on it (nigga!) number one got our face on it\nAnd I make a case on it, treason\nEvery twelve months it's huntin season\nThey call us Slaughterhouse for a reason!\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Royce] Crooked!\n\n[Crooked I]\nPiano face Audemars, you haters know the time\nDrug abusin fourth-grader, I mean a loaded nine\nHits in the stash, Ferrari Spider, the road is mine\nLike lap dancers and bad brakes, I'm on the grind\nSo tell Officer Crawford that this is (Slaughterhouse)\nAnd I left the next black president in his daughter's mouth\nSwallow my kids then I'm like, \"Yo I gotta bounce\"\nBen Franklin's a math genius and every dollar counts\nWe takin over the game, go at you little wussies\n(Why?) Cause that's the sweetest joy next to gettin pussy\nSomethin bad is emergin\nSlaughter's blowin up like a suicide bomber promised 70 virgins nigga\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Royce] Ortiz!\n\n[Joell Ortiz]\nOne quarter of Slaughter reportin to you live\nFrom a corner where reporters stop by\nSince somebody playin pow-pow\nShots fly out a glock-9 'til you cooked like a potpie\nTake a look at everybody in my crew\nBet you can't find a member of the squad that is not fly\nAnybody say they can see us they either lyin\nOr not wearin they glasses, apparently cock-eyed\nWe don't shit, we ca-ca\nWe don't spit, we emit lava\nGot a grip on these hip-hoppers like a big lobster\nEverybody know the deal when the hear the kid YOWWA!\nGoo-goo, ga-ga, baby cryin 'bout the internet\nThey get on the site but they showed me and Joe the other night\nTakin flights then lightin up a cigarette\nMotherfucker we ill, not one insect step short of the best thing\nEverything we touch make they head swing and, y'all ain't really interestin\nThrow a shot, and our fans do the interceptin\nYou got the crowd fooled but I ain't really into wrestlin (into wrestlin)\n\n[Chorus]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: We Outta Here (feat. Slaughterhouse)\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: Escape Route\n duration_ms: 285000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n (Feat. Royce Da 5'9\", Joell Ortiz, Crooked I)\n [Intro: Royce]\n Your left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n Your right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n [Gunfire]\n Your left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n Your right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n [Whistle blows]\n\n [Female] Slaughter\n\n [Royce Da 5'9\"]\n Poppa-Poppa Pistol stuck his dick in Momma Missile\n And created Mr. Got-to-Get-You if he opposite just split\n You niggaz bitches cranberry like a vodka mixer\n Whippin bitches niggaz black, ass like a cotton picker\n Bomb through debris - I'm holdin two pistols\n In the form of a crosshair, I am armed to the T\n I put on for my city, I take off for whoever\n Think I'm soft for my job of rappin, go back to clappin\n Back to illin, back to dealin, back to coc-a-ina\n Up the nose, that's the feelin, sky the limit, that's the ceilin\n And the women is the whores, puttin numbers up for sales\n It's the score into hell, it's the feel, it's the feel\n\n [Chorus: Royce Da 5'9\" - singing with AutoTune]\n I can make noise when the gat blowwwww-ooooooh-oooh\n The Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blowwwww-ohhhhh-ooooh\n It's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouuuuuuuse\n We outta here, we outta here, we outta here\n It's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouse\n We outta here, we outta here, we outta\n\n [Joe Budden]\n [Starts off screwed] I live my life like a hood bopper\n Touched by evil, all about bread and evil\n Regular people lookin like bread to eagles with the desert eagle\n Cordially they forcin me to act accordingly\n When according to me my thoughts disorderly just like they outta be\n It's more to me in accord to me\n Just mad at the smoke and the mirrors, image, perceptions and the forgery\n Everything is a fraud to me\n So until the boys wake up, me and my boys make up\n Be with the toy sprayers, aimin noise makers at the noise makers (blam)\n Best group ever, group of whoever who do it better\n Bets placed on it (nigga!) number one got our face on it\n And I make a case on it, treason\n Every twelve months it's huntin season\n They call us Slaughterhouse for a reason!\n\n [Chorus]\n\n [Royce] Crooked!\n\n [Crooked I]\n Piano face Audemars, you haters know the time\n Drug abusin fourth-grader, I mean a loaded nine\n Hits in the stash, Ferrari Spider, the road is mine\n Like lap dancers and bad brakes, I'm on the grind\n So tell Officer Crawford that this is (Slaughterhouse)\n And I left the next black president in his daughter's mouth\n Swallow my kids then I'm like, \"Yo I gotta bounce\"\n Ben Franklin's a math genius and every dollar counts\n We takin over the game, go at you little wussies\n (Why?) Cause that's the sweetest joy next to gettin pussy\n Somethin bad is emergin\n Slaughter's blowin up like a suicide bomber promised 70 virgins nigga\n\n [Chorus]\n\n [Royce] Ortiz!\n\n [Joell Ortiz]\n One quarter of Slaughter reportin to you live\n From a corner where reporters stop by\n Since somebody playin pow-pow\n Shots fly out a glock-9 'til you cooked like a potpie\n Take a look at everybody in my crew\n Bet you can't find a member of the squad that is not fly\n Anybody say they can see us they either lyin\n Or not wearin they glasses, apparently cock-eyed\n We don't shit, we ca-ca\n We don't spit, we emit lava\n Got a grip on these hip-hoppers like a big lobster\n Everybody know the deal when the hear the kid YOWWA!\n Goo-goo, ga-ga, baby cryin 'bout the internet\n They get on the site but they showed me and Joe the other night\n Takin flights then lightin up a cigarette\n Motherfucker we ill, not one insect step short of the best thing\n Everything we touch make they head swing and, y'all ain't really interestin\n Throw a shot, and our fans do the interceptin\n You got the crowd fooled but I ain't really into wrestlin (into wrestlin)\n\n [Chorus]\n"},{"id":23190842,"name":"We Outta Here (feat. Slaughterhouse)","trackName":"We Outta Here (feat. Slaughterhouse)","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Escape Route EP","duration":283.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Feat. Royce Da 5'9\", Joell Ortiz, Crooked I)\n[Intro: Royce]\nYour left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\nYour right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n[Gunfire]\nYour left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\nYour right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n[Whistle blows]\n\n[Female] Slaughter\n\n[Royce Da 5'9\"]\nPoppa-Poppa Pistol stuck his dick in Momma Missile\nAnd created Mr. Got-to-Get-You if he opposite just split\nYou niggaz bitches cranberry like a vodka mixer\nWhippin bitches niggaz black, ass like a cotton picker\nBomb through debris - I'm holdin two pistols\nIn the form of a crosshair, I am armed to the T\nI put on for my city, I take off for whoever\nThink I'm soft for my job of rappin, go back to clappin\nBack to illin, back to dealin, back to coc-a-ina\nUp the nose, that's the feelin, sky the limit, that's the ceilin\nAnd the women is the whores, puttin numbers up for sales\nIt's the score into hell, it's the feel, it's the feel\n\n[Chorus: Royce Da 5'9\" - singing with AutoTune]\nI can make noise when the gat blowwwww-ooooooh-oooh\nThe Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blowwwww-ohhhhh-ooooh\nIt's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouuuuuuuse\nWe outta here, we outta here, we outta here\nIt's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouse\nWe outta here, we outta here, we outta\n\n[Joe Budden]\n[Starts off screwed] I live my life like a hood bopper\nTouched by evil, all about bread and evil\nRegular people lookin like bread to eagles with the desert eagle\nCordially they forcin me to act accordingly\nWhen according to me my thoughts disorderly just like they outta be\nIt's more to me in accord to me\nJust mad at the smoke and the mirrors, image, perceptions and the forgery\nEverything is a fraud to me\nSo until the boys wake up, me and my boys make up\nBe with the toy sprayers, aimin noise makers at the noise makers (blam)\nBest group ever, group of whoever who do it better\nBets placed on it (nigga!) number one got our face on it\nAnd I make a case on it, treason\nEvery twelve months it's huntin season\nThey call us Slaughterhouse for a reason!\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Royce] Crooked!\n\n[Crooked I]\nPiano face Audemars, you haters know the time\nDrug abusin fourth-grader, I mean a loaded nine\nHits in the stash, Ferrari Spider, the road is mine\nLike lap dancers and bad brakes, I'm on the grind\nSo tell Officer Crawford that this is (Slaughterhouse)\nAnd I left the next black president in his daughter's mouth\nSwallow my kids then I'm like, \"Yo I gotta bounce\"\nBen Franklin's a math genius and every dollar counts\nWe takin over the game, go at you little wussies\n(Why?) Cause that's the sweetest joy next to gettin pussy\nSomethin bad is emergin\nSlaughter's blowin up like a suicide bomber promised 70 virgins nigga\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Royce] Ortiz!\n\n[Joell Ortiz]\nOne quarter of Slaughter reportin to you live\nFrom a corner where reporters stop by\nSince somebody playin pow-pow\nShots fly out a glock-9 'til you cooked like a potpie\nTake a look at everybody in my crew\nBet you can't find a member of the squad that is not fly\nAnybody say they can see us they either lyin\nOr not wearin they glasses, apparently cock-eyed\nWe don't shit, we ca-ca\nWe don't spit, we emit lava\nGot a grip on these hip-hoppers like a big lobster\nEverybody know the deal when the hear the kid YOWWA!\nGoo-goo, ga-ga, baby cryin 'bout the internet\nThey get on the site but they showed me and Joe the other night\nTakin flights then lightin up a cigarette\nMotherfucker we ill, not one insect step short of the best thing\nEverything we touch make they head swing and, y'all ain't really interestin\nThrow a shot, and our fans do the interceptin\nYou got the crowd fooled but I ain't really into wrestlin (into wrestlin)\n\n[Chorus]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: We Outta Here (feat. Slaughterhouse)\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: Escape Route EP\n duration_ms: 283000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n (Feat. Royce Da 5'9\", Joell Ortiz, Crooked I)\n [Intro: Royce]\n Your left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n Your right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n [Gunfire]\n Your left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n Your right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n [Whistle blows]\n\n [Female] Slaughter\n\n [Royce Da 5'9\"]\n Poppa-Poppa Pistol stuck his dick in Momma Missile\n And created Mr. Got-to-Get-You if he opposite just split\n You niggaz bitches cranberry like a vodka mixer\n Whippin bitches niggaz black, ass like a cotton picker\n Bomb through debris - I'm holdin two pistols\n In the form of a crosshair, I am armed to the T\n I put on for my city, I take off for whoever\n Think I'm soft for my job of rappin, go back to clappin\n Back to illin, back to dealin, back to coc-a-ina\n Up the nose, that's the feelin, sky the limit, that's the ceilin\n And the women is the whores, puttin numbers up for sales\n It's the score into hell, it's the feel, it's the feel\n\n [Chorus: Royce Da 5'9\" - singing with AutoTune]\n I can make noise when the gat blowwwww-ooooooh-oooh\n The Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blowwwww-ohhhhh-ooooh\n It's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouuuuuuuse\n We outta here, we outta here, we outta here\n It's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouse\n We outta here, we outta here, we outta\n\n [Joe Budden]\n [Starts off screwed] I live my life like a hood bopper\n Touched by evil, all about bread and evil\n Regular people lookin like bread to eagles with the desert eagle\n Cordially they forcin me to act accordingly\n When according to me my thoughts disorderly just like they outta be\n It's more to me in accord to me\n Just mad at the smoke and the mirrors, image, perceptions and the forgery\n Everything is a fraud to me\n So until the boys wake up, me and my boys make up\n Be with the toy sprayers, aimin noise makers at the noise makers (blam)\n Best group ever, group of whoever who do it better\n Bets placed on it (nigga!) number one got our face on it\n And I make a case on it, treason\n Every twelve months it's huntin season\n They call us Slaughterhouse for a reason!\n\n [Chorus]\n\n [Royce] Crooked!\n\n [Crooked I]\n Piano face Audemars, you haters know the time\n Drug abusin fourth-grader, I mean a loaded nine\n Hits in the stash, Ferrari Spider, the road is mine\n Like lap dancers and bad brakes, I'm on the grind\n So tell Officer Crawford that this is (Slaughterhouse)\n And I left the next black president in his daughter's mouth\n Swallow my kids then I'm like, \"Yo I gotta bounce\"\n Ben Franklin's a math genius and every dollar counts\n We takin over the game, go at you little wussies\n (Why?) Cause that's the sweetest joy next to gettin pussy\n Somethin bad is emergin\n Slaughter's blowin up like a suicide bomber promised 70 virgins nigga\n\n [Chorus]\n\n [Royce] Ortiz!\n\n [Joell Ortiz]\n One quarter of Slaughter reportin to you live\n From a corner where reporters stop by\n Since somebody playin pow-pow\n Shots fly out a glock-9 'til you cooked like a potpie\n Take a look at everybody in my crew\n Bet you can't find a member of the squad that is not fly\n Anybody say they can see us they either lyin\n Or not wearin they glasses, apparently cock-eyed\n We don't shit, we ca-ca\n We don't spit, we emit lava\n Got a grip on these hip-hoppers like a big lobster\n Everybody know the deal when the hear the kid YOWWA!\n Goo-goo, ga-ga, baby cryin 'bout the internet\n They get on the site but they showed me and Joe the other night\n Takin flights then lightin up a cigarette\n Motherfucker we ill, not one insect step short of the best thing\n Everything we touch make they head swing and, y'all ain't really interestin\n Throw a shot, and our fans do the interceptin\n You got the crowd fooled but I ain't really into wrestlin (into wrestlin)\n\n [Chorus]\n"},{"id":37439826,"name":"We Outta Here (Feat. Slaughterhouse)","trackName":"We Outta Here (Feat. Slaughterhouse)","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Instrumental Kings 6 (Streetrunner Edition)","duration":149.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Feat. Royce Da 5'9\", Joell Ortiz, Crooked I)\n[Intro: Royce]\nYour left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\nYour right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n[Gunfire]\nYour left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\nYour right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n[Whistle blows]\n\n[Female] Slaughter\n\n[Royce Da 5'9\"]\nPoppa-Poppa Pistol stuck his dick in Momma Missile\nAnd created Mr. Got-to-Get-You if he opposite just split\nYou niggaz bitches cranberry like a vodka mixer\nWhippin bitches niggaz black, ass like a cotton picker\nBomb through debris - I'm holdin two pistols\nIn the form of a crosshair, I am armed to the T\nI put on for my city, I take off for whoever\nThink I'm soft for my job of rappin, go back to clappin\nBack to illin, back to dealin, back to coc-a-ina\nUp the nose, that's the feelin, sky the limit, that's the ceilin\nAnd the women is the whores, puttin numbers up for sales\nIt's the score into hell, it's the feel, it's the feel\n\n[Chorus: Royce Da 5'9\" - singing with AutoTune]\nI can make noise when the gat blowwwww-ooooooh-oooh\nThe Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blowwwww-ohhhhh-ooooh\nIt's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouuuuuuuse\nWe outta here, we outta here, we outta here\nIt's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouse\nWe outta here, we outta here, we outta\n\n[Joe Budden]\n[Starts off screwed] I live my life like a hood bopper\nTouched by evil, all about bread and evil\nRegular people lookin like bread to eagles with the desert eagle\nCordially they forcin me to act accordingly\nWhen according to me my thoughts disorderly just like they outta be\nIt's more to me in accord to me\nJust mad at the smoke and the mirrors, image, perceptions and the forgery\nEverything is a fraud to me\nSo until the boys wake up, me and my boys make up\nBe with the toy sprayers, aimin noise makers at the noise makers (blam)\nBest group ever, group of whoever who do it better\nBets placed on it (nigga!) number one got our face on it\nAnd I make a case on it, treason\nEvery twelve months it's huntin season\nThey call us Slaughterhouse for a reason!\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Royce] Crooked!\n\n[Crooked I]\nPiano face Audemars, you haters know the time\nDrug abusin fourth-grader, I mean a loaded nine\nHits in the stash, Ferrari Spider, the road is mine\nLike lap dancers and bad brakes, I'm on the grind\nSo tell Officer Crawford that this is (Slaughterhouse)\nAnd I left the next black president in his daughter's mouth\nSwallow my kids then I'm like, \"Yo I gotta bounce\"\nBen Franklin's a math genius and every dollar counts\nWe takin over the game, go at you little wussies\n(Why?) Cause that's the sweetest joy next to gettin pussy\nSomethin bad is emergin\nSlaughter's blowin up like a suicide bomber promised 70 virgins nigga\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Royce] Ortiz!\n\n[Joell Ortiz]\nOne quarter of Slaughter reportin to you live\nFrom a corner where reporters stop by\nSince somebody playin pow-pow\nShots fly out a glock-9 'til you cooked like a potpie\nTake a look at everybody in my crew\nBet you can't find a member of the squad that is not fly\nAnybody say they can see us they either lyin\nOr not wearin they glasses, apparently cock-eyed\nWe don't shit, we ca-ca\nWe don't spit, we emit lava\nGot a grip on these hip-hoppers like a big lobster\nEverybody know the deal when the hear the kid YOWWA!\nGoo-goo, ga-ga, baby cryin 'bout the internet\nThey get on the site but they showed me and Joe the other night\nTakin flights then lightin up a cigarette\nMotherfucker we ill, not one insect step short of the best thing\nEverything we touch make they head swing and, y'all ain't really interestin\nThrow a shot, and our fans do the interceptin\nYou got the crowd fooled but I ain't really into wrestlin (into wrestlin)\n\n[Chorus]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: We Outta Here (Feat. Slaughterhouse)\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: Instrumental Kings 6 (Streetrunner Edition)\n duration_ms: 148715\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n (Feat. Royce Da 5'9\", Joell Ortiz, Crooked I)\n [Intro: Royce]\n Your left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n Your right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n [Gunfire]\n Your left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n Your right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n [Whistle blows]\n\n [Female] Slaughter\n\n [Royce Da 5'9\"]\n Poppa-Poppa Pistol stuck his dick in Momma Missile\n And created Mr. Got-to-Get-You if he opposite just split\n You niggaz bitches cranberry like a vodka mixer\n Whippin bitches niggaz black, ass like a cotton picker\n Bomb through debris - I'm holdin two pistols\n In the form of a crosshair, I am armed to the T\n I put on for my city, I take off for whoever\n Think I'm soft for my job of rappin, go back to clappin\n Back to illin, back to dealin, back to coc-a-ina\n Up the nose, that's the feelin, sky the limit, that's the ceilin\n And the women is the whores, puttin numbers up for sales\n It's the score into hell, it's the feel, it's the feel\n\n [Chorus: Royce Da 5'9\" - singing with AutoTune]\n I can make noise when the gat blowwwww-ooooooh-oooh\n The Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blowwwww-ohhhhh-ooooh\n It's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouuuuuuuse\n We outta here, we outta here, we outta here\n It's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouse\n We outta here, we outta here, we outta\n\n [Joe Budden]\n [Starts off screwed] I live my life like a hood bopper\n Touched by evil, all about bread and evil\n Regular people lookin like bread to eagles with the desert eagle\n Cordially they forcin me to act accordingly\n When according to me my thoughts disorderly just like they outta be\n It's more to me in accord to me\n Just mad at the smoke and the mirrors, image, perceptions and the forgery\n Everything is a fraud to me\n So until the boys wake up, me and my boys make up\n Be with the toy sprayers, aimin noise makers at the noise makers (blam)\n Best group ever, group of whoever who do it better\n Bets placed on it (nigga!) number one got our face on it\n And I make a case on it, treason\n Every twelve months it's huntin season\n They call us Slaughterhouse for a reason!\n\n [Chorus]\n\n [Royce] Crooked!\n\n [Crooked I]\n Piano face Audemars, you haters know the time\n Drug abusin fourth-grader, I mean a loaded nine\n Hits in the stash, Ferrari Spider, the road is mine\n Like lap dancers and bad brakes, I'm on the grind\n So tell Officer Crawford that this is (Slaughterhouse)\n And I left the next black president in his daughter's mouth\n Swallow my kids then I'm like, \"Yo I gotta bounce\"\n Ben Franklin's a math genius and every dollar counts\n We takin over the game, go at you little wussies\n (Why?) Cause that's the sweetest joy next to gettin pussy\n Somethin bad is emergin\n Slaughter's blowin up like a suicide bomber promised 70 virgins nigga\n\n [Chorus]\n\n [Royce] Ortiz!\n\n [Joell Ortiz]\n One quarter of Slaughter reportin to you live\n From a corner where reporters stop by\n Since somebody playin pow-pow\n Shots fly out a glock-9 'til you cooked like a potpie\n Take a look at everybody in my crew\n Bet you can't find a member of the squad that is not fly\n Anybody say they can see us they either lyin\n Or not wearin they glasses, apparently cock-eyed\n We don't shit, we ca-ca\n We don't spit, we emit lava\n Got a grip on these hip-hoppers like a big lobster\n Everybody know the deal when the hear the kid YOWWA!\n Goo-goo, ga-ga, baby cryin 'bout the internet\n They get on the site but they showed me and Joe the other night\n Takin flights then lightin up a cigarette\n Motherfucker we ill, not one insect step short of the best thing\n Everything we touch make they head swing and, y'all ain't really interestin\n Throw a shot, and our fans do the interceptin\n You got the crowd fooled but I ain't really into wrestlin (into wrestlin)\n\n [Chorus]\n"},{"id":6251015,"name":"Slaughterhouse (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce da 5'9)","trackName":"Slaughterhouse (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce da 5'9)","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Halfway House","duration":422.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n[Joell Ortiz:]\nI define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\nHip hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother\nMy mind hovers above all you jive suckers\nListen, that's word to my mother\nYou throw a shot at me\nI'm throwing a shot back\nYour's is on a joint\nMine's whistling by your top hat\nYa I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\nThey fifth is lyin in they second drawer\nNext door to some bullshit they ironed\nYa'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\nThe pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n[Nino Bless:]\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\nThat term's done fucka, what up whatever\nYou bird's is food\nI'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\nPlus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar, you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDroppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\nSwear on my pops, no fear in my heart\nShit, been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\nLike sick cracker shit\nGet back dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\nDog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white\nWhen I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\nDon't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\nYou was a willy\nNow you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense\nI really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolvin, but grown bitter\nOn your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n[Crooked I:]\nI don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\nI breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\nUnless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\nForever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\nOnly when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\nThe dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\nIn my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\nFrom Switzerland to New York\nI was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\nI'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\nSicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\nDay old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\nTryin to keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI'll send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n[Royce Da 59:]\nI hope niggas know\nI'll show up to ya show\nI'll show up where you go\nShow up to ya door\n4's will explode shells\nFor they hit the flo'\nI know niggas know\nI got an open window flow\nI air shit out\nIn the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why?\nShiiiiiiiiiieeett\nCause when it come to them words\nYou know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like white lines\nOn the nose tray\nIce cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRiding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay hummin'\nLike strummin' the mandolin or violin\nSpeaking of, I done played into the violence\nMore then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\nIf I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTill it ain't no more, ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed\nI'm a living anal probe\nI'm a lame-a-phobe\nMatter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n(WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\nNow I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly\nGoin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n[Joe Budden:]\nThey say he a bastard for real\nThen they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\nEndless, move more then 2 inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this, or see me manana\nOr see the speed of a llama\nUnderground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\nWhen it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a box, wait\nZipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\nSo ya'll could bump swag like us\nBut the next time rap's discussed\nAdd this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass\nBut the fags might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\nChicks removing they drawls\nNow your crew is in awe\nHow you ball?\nYour jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor,\nTo process it, I'll set it\nI said it!\nSo keep running around hot headed\nTill you get hot leaded\nTill everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L!","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.31] (Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n[00:10.25] [Joell Ortiz:]\n[00:10.88] I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n[00:11.53] Hip hop got my spine smothered\n[00:12.76] But I'll be fine brother\n[00:13.55] My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n[00:14.89] Listen, that's word to my mother\n[00:16.32] You throw a shot at me\n[00:17.56] I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.77] Your's is on a joint\n[00:19.95] Mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.36] Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.50] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:25.97] I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n[00:28.03] They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n[00:29.80] Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n[00:31.77] Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n[00:34.25] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n[00:36.72] I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n[00:38.90] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n[00:41.65] Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n[00:44.41] The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n[00:47.17] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.51] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:51.96] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:54.68] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.09] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[00:59.37] I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.30] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.63] You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n[01:07.11] [Nino Bless:]\n[01:07.71] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n[01:10.28] That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n[01:12.30] You bird's is food\n[01:14.05] I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n[01:16.25] Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n[01:19.45] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:22.95] I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n[01:25.08] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.92] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.52] Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n[01:33.33] Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n[01:37.18] Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n[01:39.53] Shit, been through it all\n[01:41.50] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.62] I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.53] Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n[01:49.58] Like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.17] Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.25] Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n[01:54.99] Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.33] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.47] You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n[02:01.56] When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n[02:03.75] Don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.23] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.45] When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n[02:10.15] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.30] I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:15.66] What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n[02:18.27] You was a willy\n[02:19.41] Now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.88] I ain't with that silly nonsense\n[02:22.45] I really pop shit\n[02:23.81] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:25.63] I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n[02:28.41] On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n[02:30.77] [Crooked I:]\n[02:31.59] I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n[02:33.19] I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.50] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n[02:37.82] Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n[02:40.73] Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.08] Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n[02:45.45] Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n[02:48.84] The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n[02:51.50] You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n[02:54.09] I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n[02:55.92] In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n[03:01.18] From Switzerland to New York\n[03:02.25] I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n[03:03.02] I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.51] Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n[03:06.92] Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n[03:09.79] Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:14.07] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:14.75] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:16.94] Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.01] The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n[03:21.15] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:23.00] I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.28] Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n[03:27.46] It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n[03:30.68] Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:32.84] [Royce Da 59:]\n[03:33.48] I hope niggas know\n[03:34.82] I'll show up to ya show\n[03:35.95] I'll show up where you go\n[03:36.86] Show up to ya door\n[03:37.91] 4's will explode shells\n[03:39.25] For they hit the flo'\n[03:40.25] I know niggas know\n[03:41.13] I got an open window flow\n[03:42.58] I air shit out\n[03:43.84] In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.09] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.82] Guess why?\n[03:49.44] Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n[03:51.28] Cause when it come to them words\n[03:52.55] You know I wear shit out\n[03:54.43] I write rhymes like white lines\n[03:56.43] On the nose tray\n[03:57.78] Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[03:59.55] Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.35] Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:05.57] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.92] Hammers stay hummin'\n[04:08.81] Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n[04:10.61] Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n[04:12.54] More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:15.16] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.22] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:20.82] Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n[04:23.43] If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.82] Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n[04:27.87] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n[04:29.62] I'm a living anal probe\n[04:31.24] I'm a lame-a-phobe\n[04:32.54] Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n[04:34.48] (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n[04:36.05] When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n[04:38.39] Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:40.64] I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.49] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:46.17] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.88] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.78] I'm like Marty McFly\n[04:53.81] Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.04] [Joe Budden:]\n[04:56.67] They say he a bastard for real\n[04:59.36] Then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.07] So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n[05:01.81] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:05.14] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.02] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.37] I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n[05:13.41] Endless, move more then 2 inches\n[05:15.55] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:18.58] So end this, or see me manana\n[05:20.83] Or see the speed of a llama\n[05:22.69] Underground prima donna\n[05:23.35] That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n[05:24.16] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:25.61] I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.58] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.17] My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n[05:35.89] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.41] Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n[05:40.80] When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.02] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.09] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.86] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.32] Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n[05:54.33] Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n[05:56.55] Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n[05:58.80] So ya'll could bump swag like us\n[06:01.61] But the next time rap's discussed\n[06:03.84] Add this as a plus\n[06:04.90] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.74] And would get up in that ass\n[06:08.22] But the fags might bust\n[06:09.67] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.81] I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n[06:14.33] Chicks removing they drawls\n[06:17.02] Now your crew is in awe\n[06:19.73] How you ball?\n[06:20.51] Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:21.04] You gon' need another processor,\n[06:22.58] To process it, I'll set it\n[06:23.20] I said it!\n[06:23.98] So keep running around hot headed\n[06:26.48] Till you get hot leaded\n[06:27.95] Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:29.94] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.59] Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n[06:35.24] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n[06:38.31] With Joe spell, NO L!\n[06:41.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce da 5'9)\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: Halfway House\n duration_ms: 422000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n start_ms: 9310\n end_ms: 10250\n- text: '[Joell Ortiz:]'\n start_ms: 10250\n end_ms: 10880\n- text: I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n start_ms: 10880\n end_ms: 11530\n- text: Hip hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 11530\n end_ms: 12760\n- text: But I'll be fine brother\n start_ms: 12760\n end_ms: 13550\n- text: My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n start_ms: 13550\n end_ms: 14890\n- text: Listen, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 14890\n end_ms: 16320\n- text: You throw a shot at me\n start_ms: 16320\n end_ms: 17560\n- text: I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 17560\n end_ms: 18770\n- text: Your's is on a joint\n start_ms: 18770\n end_ms: 19950\n- text: Mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 19950\n end_ms: 21360\n- text: Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21360\n end_ms: 23500\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23500\n end_ms: 25970\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n start_ms: 25970\n end_ms: 28030\n- text: They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n start_ms: 28030\n end_ms: 29800\n- text: Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n start_ms: 29800\n end_ms: 31770\n- text: Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n start_ms: 31770\n end_ms: 34250\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n start_ms: 34250\n end_ms: 36720\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n start_ms: 36720\n end_ms: 38900\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n start_ms: 38900\n end_ms: 41650\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n start_ms: 41650\n end_ms: 44410\n- text: The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n start_ms: 44410\n end_ms: 47170\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47170\n end_ms: 49510\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49510\n end_ms: 51960\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 51960\n end_ms: 54680\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 54680\n end_ms: 57090\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57090\n end_ms: 59370\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 59370\n end_ms: 62300\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62300\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 67110\n- text: '[Nino Bless:]'\n start_ms: 67110\n end_ms: 67710\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n start_ms: 67710\n end_ms: 70280\n- text: That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70280\n end_ms: 72300\n- text: You bird's is food\n start_ms: 72300\n end_ms: 74050\n- text: I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n start_ms: 74050\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 79450\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 79450\n end_ms: 82950\n- text: I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n start_ms: 82950\n end_ms: 85080\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85080\n end_ms: 87920\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87920\n end_ms: 90520\n- text: Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90520\n end_ms: 93330\n- text: Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n start_ms: 93330\n end_ms: 97180\n- text: Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n start_ms: 97180\n end_ms: 99530\n- text: Shit, been through it all\n start_ms: 99530\n end_ms: 101500\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101500\n end_ms: 103620\n- text: I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103620\n end_ms: 106530\n- text: Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n start_ms: 106530\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 110170\n- text: Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110170\n end_ms: 112250\n- text: Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n start_ms: 112250\n end_ms: 114990\n- text: Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 114990\n end_ms: 117330\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117330\n end_ms: 119470\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n start_ms: 119470\n end_ms: 121560\n- text: When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n start_ms: 121560\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 125230\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125230\n end_ms: 127450\n- text: When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n start_ms: 127450\n end_ms: 130150\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130150\n end_ms: 133300\n- text: I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133300\n end_ms: 135660\n- text: What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n start_ms: 135660\n end_ms: 138270\n- text: You was a willy\n start_ms: 138270\n end_ms: 139410\n- text: Now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 139410\n end_ms: 140880\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense\n start_ms: 140880\n end_ms: 142450\n- text: I really pop shit\n start_ms: 142450\n end_ms: 143810\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143810\n end_ms: 145630\n- text: I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n start_ms: 145630\n end_ms: 148410\n- text: On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n start_ms: 148410\n end_ms: 150770\n- text: '[Crooked I:]'\n start_ms: 150770\n end_ms: 151590\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n start_ms: 151590\n end_ms: 153190\n- text: I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 153190\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 157820\n- text: Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n start_ms: 157820\n end_ms: 160730\n- text: Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160730\n end_ms: 163080\n- text: Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n start_ms: 163080\n end_ms: 165450\n- text: Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n start_ms: 165450\n end_ms: 168840\n- text: The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 168840\n end_ms: 171500\n- text: You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n start_ms: 171500\n end_ms: 174090\n- text: I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n start_ms: 174090\n end_ms: 175920\n- text: In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n start_ms: 175920\n end_ms: 181180\n- text: From Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 181180\n end_ms: 182250\n- text: I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n start_ms: 182250\n end_ms: 183020\n- text: I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 183020\n end_ms: 184510\n- text: Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n start_ms: 184510\n end_ms: 186920\n- text: Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n start_ms: 186920\n end_ms: 189790\n- text: Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 189790\n end_ms: 194070\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 194070\n end_ms: 194750\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 194750\n end_ms: 196940\n- text: Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 196940\n end_ms: 199010\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199010\n end_ms: 201150\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 201150\n end_ms: 203000\n- text: I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 203000\n end_ms: 205280\n- text: Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n start_ms: 205280\n end_ms: 207460\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n start_ms: 207460\n end_ms: 210680\n- text: Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 210680\n end_ms: 212840\n- text: '[Royce Da 59:]'\n start_ms: 212840\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: I hope niggas know\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214820\n- text: I'll show up to ya show\n start_ms: 214820\n end_ms: 215950\n- text: I'll show up where you go\n start_ms: 215950\n end_ms: 216860\n- text: Show up to ya door\n start_ms: 216860\n end_ms: 217910\n- text: 4's will explode shells\n start_ms: 217910\n end_ms: 219250\n- text: For they hit the flo'\n start_ms: 219250\n end_ms: 220250\n- text: I know niggas know\n start_ms: 220250\n end_ms: 221130\n- text: I got an open window flow\n start_ms: 221130\n end_ms: 222580\n- text: I air shit out\n start_ms: 222580\n end_ms: 223840\n- text: In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223840\n end_ms: 226090\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226090\n end_ms: 227820\n- text: Guess why?\n start_ms: 227820\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 231280\n- text: Cause when it come to them words\n start_ms: 231280\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: You know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 234430\n- text: I write rhymes like white lines\n start_ms: 234430\n end_ms: 236430\n- text: On the nose tray\n start_ms: 236430\n end_ms: 237780\n- text: Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237780\n end_ms: 239550\n- text: Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 239550\n end_ms: 242350\n- text: Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242350\n end_ms: 245570\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 245570\n end_ms: 247920\n- text: Hammers stay hummin'\n start_ms: 247920\n end_ms: 248810\n- text: Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n start_ms: 248810\n end_ms: 250610\n- text: Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n start_ms: 250610\n end_ms: 252540\n- text: More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252540\n end_ms: 255160\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 255160\n end_ms: 258220\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258220\n end_ms: 260820\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n start_ms: 260820\n end_ms: 263430\n- text: If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263430\n end_ms: 265820\n- text: Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265820\n end_ms: 267870\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n start_ms: 267870\n end_ms: 269620\n- text: I'm a living anal probe\n start_ms: 269620\n end_ms: 271240\n- text: I'm a lame-a-phobe\n start_ms: 271240\n end_ms: 272540\n- text: Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n start_ms: 272540\n end_ms: 274480\n- text: (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n start_ms: 274480\n end_ms: 276050\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n start_ms: 276050\n end_ms: 278390\n- text: Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278390\n end_ms: 280640\n- text: I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 280640\n end_ms: 283490\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283490\n end_ms: 286170\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 286170\n end_ms: 288880\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288880\n end_ms: 291780\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly\n start_ms: 291780\n end_ms: 293810\n- text: Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 293810\n end_ms: 296040\n- text: '[Joe Budden:]'\n start_ms: 296040\n end_ms: 296670\n- text: They say he a bastard for real\n start_ms: 296670\n end_ms: 299360\n- text: Then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 299360\n end_ms: 300070\n- text: So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300070\n end_ms: 301810\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301810\n end_ms: 305140\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 305140\n end_ms: 307020\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307020\n end_ms: 309370\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n start_ms: 309370\n end_ms: 313410\n- text: Endless, move more then 2 inches\n start_ms: 313410\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315550\n end_ms: 318580\n- text: So end this, or see me manana\n start_ms: 318580\n end_ms: 320830\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama\n start_ms: 320830\n end_ms: 322690\n- text: Underground prima donna\n start_ms: 322690\n end_ms: 323350\n- text: That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n start_ms: 323350\n end_ms: 324160\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 324160\n end_ms: 325610\n- text: I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 325610\n end_ms: 330580\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330580\n end_ms: 333170\n- text: My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n start_ms: 333170\n end_ms: 335890\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 335890\n end_ms: 338410\n- text: Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n start_ms: 338410\n end_ms: 340800\n- text: When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340800\n end_ms: 343020\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343020\n end_ms: 346090\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346090\n end_ms: 348860\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348860\n end_ms: 351320\n- text: Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n start_ms: 351320\n end_ms: 354330\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n start_ms: 354330\n end_ms: 356550\n- text: Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n start_ms: 356550\n end_ms: 358800\n- text: So ya'll could bump swag like us\n start_ms: 358800\n end_ms: 361610\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed\n start_ms: 361610\n end_ms: 363840\n- text: Add this as a plus\n start_ms: 363840\n end_ms: 364900\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364900\n end_ms: 366740\n- text: And would get up in that ass\n start_ms: 366740\n end_ms: 368220\n- text: But the fags might bust\n start_ms: 368220\n end_ms: 369670\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369670\n end_ms: 371810\n- text: I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n start_ms: 371810\n end_ms: 374330\n- text: Chicks removing they drawls\n start_ms: 374330\n end_ms: 377020\n- text: Now your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 377020\n end_ms: 379730\n- text: How you ball?\n start_ms: 379730\n end_ms: 380510\n- text: Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 380510\n end_ms: 381040\n- text: You gon' need another processor,\n start_ms: 381040\n end_ms: 382580\n- text: To process it, I'll set it\n start_ms: 382580\n end_ms: 383200\n- text: I said it!\n start_ms: 383200\n end_ms: 383980\n- text: So keep running around hot headed\n start_ms: 383980\n end_ms: 386480\n- text: Till you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 386480\n end_ms: 387950\n- text: Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387950\n end_ms: 389940\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 389940\n end_ms: 392590\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n start_ms: 392590\n end_ms: 395240\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n start_ms: 395240\n end_ms: 398310\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L!\n start_ms: 398310\n end_ms: 401090\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 401090\nplain: |-\n (Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n [Joell Ortiz:]\n I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n Hip hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother\n My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n Listen, that's word to my mother\n You throw a shot at me\n I'm throwing a shot back\n Your's is on a joint\n Mine's whistling by your top hat\n Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n [Nino Bless:]\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n You bird's is food\n I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n Shit, been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n Like sick cracker shit\n Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n Don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n You was a willy\n Now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense\n I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n [Crooked I:]\n I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n From Switzerland to New York\n I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n [Royce Da 59:]\n I hope niggas know\n I'll show up to ya show\n I'll show up where you go\n Show up to ya door\n 4's will explode shells\n For they hit the flo'\n I know niggas know\n I got an open window flow\n I air shit out\n In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why?\n Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n Cause when it come to them words\n You know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like white lines\n On the nose tray\n Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay hummin'\n Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n I'm a living anal probe\n I'm a lame-a-phobe\n Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly\n Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n [Joe Budden:]\n They say he a bastard for real\n Then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n Endless, move more then 2 inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this, or see me manana\n Or see the speed of a llama\n Underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n So ya'll could bump swag like us\n But the next time rap's discussed\n Add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass\n But the fags might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n Chicks removing they drawls\n Now your crew is in awe\n How you ball?\n Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor,\n To process it, I'll set it\n I said it!\n So keep running around hot headed\n Till you get hot leaded\n Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L!\n"},{"id":16659360,"name":"Slaughterhouse Ft. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9","trackName":"Slaughterhouse Ft. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Halfway House","duration":422.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n[Joell Ortiz:]\nI define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\nHip hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother\nMy mind hovers above all you jive suckers\nListen, that's word to my mother\nYou throw a shot at me\nI'm throwing a shot back\nYour's is on a joint\nMine's whistling by your top hat\nYa I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\nThey fifth is lyin in they second drawer\nNext door to some bullshit they ironed\nYa'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\nThe pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n[Nino Bless:]\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\nThat term's done fucka, what up whatever\nYou bird's is food\nI'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\nPlus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar, you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDroppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\nSwear on my pops, no fear in my heart\nShit, been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\nLike sick cracker shit\nGet back dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\nDog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white\nWhen I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\nDon't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\nYou was a willy\nNow you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense\nI really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolvin, but grown bitter\nOn your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n[Crooked I:]\nI don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\nI breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\nUnless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\nForever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\nOnly when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\nThe dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\nIn my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\nFrom Switzerland to New York\nI was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\nI'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\nSicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\nDay old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\nTryin to keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI'll send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n[Royce Da 59:]\nI hope niggas know\nI'll show up to ya show\nI'll show up where you go\nShow up to ya door\n4's will explode shells\nFor they hit the flo'\nI know niggas know\nI got an open window flow\nI air shit out\nIn the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why?\nShiiiiiiiiiieeett\nCause when it come to them words\nYou know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like white lines\nOn the nose tray\nIce cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRiding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay hummin'\nLike strummin' the mandolin or violin\nSpeaking of, I done played into the violence\nMore then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\nIf I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTill it ain't no more, ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed\nI'm a living anal probe\nI'm a lame-a-phobe\nMatter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n(WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\nNow I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly\nGoin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n[Joe Budden:]\nThey say he a bastard for real\nThen they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\nEndless, move more then 2 inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this, or see me manana\nOr see the speed of a llama\nUnderground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\nWhen it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a box, wait\nZipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\nSo ya'll could bump swag like us\nBut the next time rap's discussed\nAdd this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass\nBut the fags might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\nChicks removing they drawls\nNow your crew is in awe\nHow you ball?\nYour jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor,\nTo process it, I'll set it\nI said it!\nSo keep running around hot headed\nTill you get hot leaded\nTill everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L!","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.31] (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n[00:10.25] [Joell Ortiz:]\n[00:10.88] I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n[00:11.53] Hip hop got my spine smothered\n[00:12.76] But I'll be fine brother\n[00:13.55] My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n[00:14.89] Listen, that's word to my mother\n[00:16.32] You throw a shot at me\n[00:17.56] I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.77] Your's is on a joint\n[00:19.95] Mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.36] Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.50] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:25.97] I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n[00:28.03] They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n[00:29.80] Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n[00:31.77] Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n[00:34.25] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n[00:36.72] I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n[00:38.90] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n[00:41.65] Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n[00:44.41] The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n[00:47.17] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.51] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:51.96] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:54.68] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.09] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[00:59.37] I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.30] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.63] You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n[01:07.11] [Nino Bless:]\n[01:07.71] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n[01:10.28] That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n[01:12.30] You bird's is food\n[01:14.05] I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n[01:16.25] Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n[01:19.45] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:22.95] I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n[01:25.08] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.92] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.52] Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n[01:33.33] Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n[01:37.18] Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n[01:39.53] Shit, been through it all\n[01:41.50] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.62] I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.53] Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n[01:49.58] Like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.17] Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.25] Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n[01:54.99] Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.33] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.47] You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n[02:01.56] When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n[02:03.75] Don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.23] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.45] When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n[02:10.15] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.30] I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:15.66] What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n[02:18.27] You was a willy\n[02:19.41] Now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.88] I ain't with that silly nonsense\n[02:22.45] I really pop shit\n[02:23.81] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:25.63] I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n[02:28.41] On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n[02:30.77] [Crooked I:]\n[02:31.59] I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n[02:33.19] I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.50] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n[02:37.82] Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n[02:40.73] Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.08] Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n[02:45.45] Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n[02:48.84] The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n[02:51.50] You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n[02:54.09] I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n[02:55.92] In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n[03:01.18] From Switzerland to New York\n[03:02.25] I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n[03:03.02] I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.51] Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n[03:06.92] Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n[03:09.79] Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:14.07] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:14.75] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:16.94] Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.01] The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n[03:21.15] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:23.00] I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.28] Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n[03:27.46] It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n[03:30.68] Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:32.84] [Royce Da 59:]\n[03:33.48] I hope niggas know\n[03:34.82] I'll show up to ya show\n[03:35.95] I'll show up where you go\n[03:36.86] Show up to ya door\n[03:37.91] 4's will explode shells\n[03:39.25] For they hit the flo'\n[03:40.25] I know niggas know\n[03:41.13] I got an open window flow\n[03:42.58] I air shit out\n[03:43.84] In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.09] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.82] Guess why?\n[03:49.44] Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n[03:51.28] Cause when it come to them words\n[03:52.55] You know I wear shit out\n[03:54.43] I write rhymes like white lines\n[03:56.43] On the nose tray\n[03:57.78] Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[03:59.55] Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.35] Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:05.57] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.92] Hammers stay hummin'\n[04:08.81] Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n[04:10.61] Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n[04:12.54] More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:15.16] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.22] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:20.82] Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n[04:23.43] If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.82] Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n[04:27.87] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n[04:29.62] I'm a living anal probe\n[04:31.24] I'm a lame-a-phobe\n[04:32.54] Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n[04:34.48] (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n[04:36.05] When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n[04:38.39] Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:40.64] I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.49] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:46.17] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.88] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.78] I'm like Marty McFly\n[04:53.81] Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.04] [Joe Budden:]\n[04:56.67] They say he a bastard for real\n[04:59.36] Then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.07] So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n[05:01.81] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:05.14] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.02] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.37] I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n[05:13.41] Endless, move more then 2 inches\n[05:15.55] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:18.58] So end this, or see me manana\n[05:20.83] Or see the speed of a llama\n[05:22.69] Underground prima donna\n[05:23.35] That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n[05:24.16] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:25.61] I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.58] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.17] My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n[05:35.89] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.41] Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n[05:40.80] When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.02] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.09] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.86] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.32] Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n[05:54.33] Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n[05:56.55] Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n[05:58.80] So ya'll could bump swag like us\n[06:01.61] But the next time rap's discussed\n[06:03.84] Add this as a plus\n[06:04.90] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.74] And would get up in that ass\n[06:08.22] But the fags might bust\n[06:09.67] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.81] I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n[06:14.33] Chicks removing they drawls\n[06:17.02] Now your crew is in awe\n[06:19.73] How you ball?\n[06:20.51] Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:21.04] You gon' need another processor,\n[06:22.58] To process it, I'll set it\n[06:23.20] I said it!\n[06:23.98] So keep running around hot headed\n[06:26.48] Till you get hot leaded\n[06:27.95] Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:29.94] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.59] Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n[06:35.24] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n[06:38.31] With Joe spell, NO L!\n[06:41.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse Ft. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: Halfway House\n duration_ms: 422000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n start_ms: 9310\n end_ms: 10250\n- text: '[Joell Ortiz:]'\n start_ms: 10250\n end_ms: 10880\n- text: I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n start_ms: 10880\n end_ms: 11530\n- text: Hip hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 11530\n end_ms: 12760\n- text: But I'll be fine brother\n start_ms: 12760\n end_ms: 13550\n- text: My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n start_ms: 13550\n end_ms: 14890\n- text: Listen, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 14890\n end_ms: 16320\n- text: You throw a shot at me\n start_ms: 16320\n end_ms: 17560\n- text: I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 17560\n end_ms: 18770\n- text: Your's is on a joint\n start_ms: 18770\n end_ms: 19950\n- text: Mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 19950\n end_ms: 21360\n- text: Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21360\n end_ms: 23500\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23500\n end_ms: 25970\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n start_ms: 25970\n end_ms: 28030\n- text: They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n start_ms: 28030\n end_ms: 29800\n- text: Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n start_ms: 29800\n end_ms: 31770\n- text: Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n start_ms: 31770\n end_ms: 34250\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n start_ms: 34250\n end_ms: 36720\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n start_ms: 36720\n end_ms: 38900\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n start_ms: 38900\n end_ms: 41650\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n start_ms: 41650\n end_ms: 44410\n- text: The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n start_ms: 44410\n end_ms: 47170\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47170\n end_ms: 49510\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49510\n end_ms: 51960\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 51960\n end_ms: 54680\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 54680\n end_ms: 57090\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57090\n end_ms: 59370\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 59370\n end_ms: 62300\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62300\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 67110\n- text: '[Nino Bless:]'\n start_ms: 67110\n end_ms: 67710\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n start_ms: 67710\n end_ms: 70280\n- text: That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70280\n end_ms: 72300\n- text: You bird's is food\n start_ms: 72300\n end_ms: 74050\n- text: I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n start_ms: 74050\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 79450\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 79450\n end_ms: 82950\n- text: I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n start_ms: 82950\n end_ms: 85080\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85080\n end_ms: 87920\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87920\n end_ms: 90520\n- text: Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90520\n end_ms: 93330\n- text: Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n start_ms: 93330\n end_ms: 97180\n- text: Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n start_ms: 97180\n end_ms: 99530\n- text: Shit, been through it all\n start_ms: 99530\n end_ms: 101500\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101500\n end_ms: 103620\n- text: I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103620\n end_ms: 106530\n- text: Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n start_ms: 106530\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 110170\n- text: Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110170\n end_ms: 112250\n- text: Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n start_ms: 112250\n end_ms: 114990\n- text: Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 114990\n end_ms: 117330\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117330\n end_ms: 119470\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n start_ms: 119470\n end_ms: 121560\n- text: When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n start_ms: 121560\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 125230\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125230\n end_ms: 127450\n- text: When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n start_ms: 127450\n end_ms: 130150\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130150\n end_ms: 133300\n- text: I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133300\n end_ms: 135660\n- text: What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n start_ms: 135660\n end_ms: 138270\n- text: You was a willy\n start_ms: 138270\n end_ms: 139410\n- text: Now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 139410\n end_ms: 140880\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense\n start_ms: 140880\n end_ms: 142450\n- text: I really pop shit\n start_ms: 142450\n end_ms: 143810\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143810\n end_ms: 145630\n- text: I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n start_ms: 145630\n end_ms: 148410\n- text: On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n start_ms: 148410\n end_ms: 150770\n- text: '[Crooked I:]'\n start_ms: 150770\n end_ms: 151590\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n start_ms: 151590\n end_ms: 153190\n- text: I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 153190\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 157820\n- text: Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n start_ms: 157820\n end_ms: 160730\n- text: Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160730\n end_ms: 163080\n- text: Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n start_ms: 163080\n end_ms: 165450\n- text: Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n start_ms: 165450\n end_ms: 168840\n- text: The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 168840\n end_ms: 171500\n- text: You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n start_ms: 171500\n end_ms: 174090\n- text: I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n start_ms: 174090\n end_ms: 175920\n- text: In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n start_ms: 175920\n end_ms: 181180\n- text: From Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 181180\n end_ms: 182250\n- text: I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n start_ms: 182250\n end_ms: 183020\n- text: I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 183020\n end_ms: 184510\n- text: Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n start_ms: 184510\n end_ms: 186920\n- text: Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n start_ms: 186920\n end_ms: 189790\n- text: Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 189790\n end_ms: 194070\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 194070\n end_ms: 194750\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 194750\n end_ms: 196940\n- text: Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 196940\n end_ms: 199010\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199010\n end_ms: 201150\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 201150\n end_ms: 203000\n- text: I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 203000\n end_ms: 205280\n- text: Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n start_ms: 205280\n end_ms: 207460\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n start_ms: 207460\n end_ms: 210680\n- text: Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 210680\n end_ms: 212840\n- text: '[Royce Da 59:]'\n start_ms: 212840\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: I hope niggas know\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214820\n- text: I'll show up to ya show\n start_ms: 214820\n end_ms: 215950\n- text: I'll show up where you go\n start_ms: 215950\n end_ms: 216860\n- text: Show up to ya door\n start_ms: 216860\n end_ms: 217910\n- text: 4's will explode shells\n start_ms: 217910\n end_ms: 219250\n- text: For they hit the flo'\n start_ms: 219250\n end_ms: 220250\n- text: I know niggas know\n start_ms: 220250\n end_ms: 221130\n- text: I got an open window flow\n start_ms: 221130\n end_ms: 222580\n- text: I air shit out\n start_ms: 222580\n end_ms: 223840\n- text: In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223840\n end_ms: 226090\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226090\n end_ms: 227820\n- text: Guess why?\n start_ms: 227820\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 231280\n- text: Cause when it come to them words\n start_ms: 231280\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: You know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 234430\n- text: I write rhymes like white lines\n start_ms: 234430\n end_ms: 236430\n- text: On the nose tray\n start_ms: 236430\n end_ms: 237780\n- text: Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237780\n end_ms: 239550\n- text: Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 239550\n end_ms: 242350\n- text: Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242350\n end_ms: 245570\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 245570\n end_ms: 247920\n- text: Hammers stay hummin'\n start_ms: 247920\n end_ms: 248810\n- text: Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n start_ms: 248810\n end_ms: 250610\n- text: Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n start_ms: 250610\n end_ms: 252540\n- text: More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252540\n end_ms: 255160\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 255160\n end_ms: 258220\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258220\n end_ms: 260820\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n start_ms: 260820\n end_ms: 263430\n- text: If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263430\n end_ms: 265820\n- text: Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265820\n end_ms: 267870\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n start_ms: 267870\n end_ms: 269620\n- text: I'm a living anal probe\n start_ms: 269620\n end_ms: 271240\n- text: I'm a lame-a-phobe\n start_ms: 271240\n end_ms: 272540\n- text: Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n start_ms: 272540\n end_ms: 274480\n- text: (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n start_ms: 274480\n end_ms: 276050\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n start_ms: 276050\n end_ms: 278390\n- text: Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278390\n end_ms: 280640\n- text: I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 280640\n end_ms: 283490\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283490\n end_ms: 286170\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 286170\n end_ms: 288880\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288880\n end_ms: 291780\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly\n start_ms: 291780\n end_ms: 293810\n- text: Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 293810\n end_ms: 296040\n- text: '[Joe Budden:]'\n start_ms: 296040\n end_ms: 296670\n- text: They say he a bastard for real\n start_ms: 296670\n end_ms: 299360\n- text: Then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 299360\n end_ms: 300070\n- text: So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300070\n end_ms: 301810\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301810\n end_ms: 305140\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 305140\n end_ms: 307020\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307020\n end_ms: 309370\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n start_ms: 309370\n end_ms: 313410\n- text: Endless, move more then 2 inches\n start_ms: 313410\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315550\n end_ms: 318580\n- text: So end this, or see me manana\n start_ms: 318580\n end_ms: 320830\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama\n start_ms: 320830\n end_ms: 322690\n- text: Underground prima donna\n start_ms: 322690\n end_ms: 323350\n- text: That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n start_ms: 323350\n end_ms: 324160\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 324160\n end_ms: 325610\n- text: I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 325610\n end_ms: 330580\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330580\n end_ms: 333170\n- text: My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n start_ms: 333170\n end_ms: 335890\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 335890\n end_ms: 338410\n- text: Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n start_ms: 338410\n end_ms: 340800\n- text: When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340800\n end_ms: 343020\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343020\n end_ms: 346090\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346090\n end_ms: 348860\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348860\n end_ms: 351320\n- text: Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n start_ms: 351320\n end_ms: 354330\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n start_ms: 354330\n end_ms: 356550\n- text: Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n start_ms: 356550\n end_ms: 358800\n- text: So ya'll could bump swag like us\n start_ms: 358800\n end_ms: 361610\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed\n start_ms: 361610\n end_ms: 363840\n- text: Add this as a plus\n start_ms: 363840\n end_ms: 364900\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364900\n end_ms: 366740\n- text: And would get up in that ass\n start_ms: 366740\n end_ms: 368220\n- text: But the fags might bust\n start_ms: 368220\n end_ms: 369670\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369670\n end_ms: 371810\n- text: I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n start_ms: 371810\n end_ms: 374330\n- text: Chicks removing they drawls\n start_ms: 374330\n end_ms: 377020\n- text: Now your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 377020\n end_ms: 379730\n- text: How you ball?\n start_ms: 379730\n end_ms: 380510\n- text: Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 380510\n end_ms: 381040\n- text: You gon' need another processor,\n start_ms: 381040\n end_ms: 382580\n- text: To process it, I'll set it\n start_ms: 382580\n end_ms: 383200\n- text: I said it!\n start_ms: 383200\n end_ms: 383980\n- text: So keep running around hot headed\n start_ms: 383980\n end_ms: 386480\n- text: Till you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 386480\n end_ms: 387950\n- text: Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387950\n end_ms: 389940\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 389940\n end_ms: 392590\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n start_ms: 392590\n end_ms: 395240\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n start_ms: 395240\n end_ms: 398310\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L!\n start_ms: 398310\n end_ms: 401090\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 401090\nplain: |-\n (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n [Joell Ortiz:]\n I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n Hip hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother\n My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n Listen, that's word to my mother\n You throw a shot at me\n I'm throwing a shot back\n Your's is on a joint\n Mine's whistling by your top hat\n Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n [Nino Bless:]\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n You bird's is food\n I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n Shit, been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n Like sick cracker shit\n Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n Don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n You was a willy\n Now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense\n I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n [Crooked I:]\n I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n From Switzerland to New York\n I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n [Royce Da 59:]\n I hope niggas know\n I'll show up to ya show\n I'll show up where you go\n Show up to ya door\n 4's will explode shells\n For they hit the flo'\n I know niggas know\n I got an open window flow\n I air shit out\n In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why?\n Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n Cause when it come to them words\n You know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like white lines\n On the nose tray\n Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay hummin'\n Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n I'm a living anal probe\n I'm a lame-a-phobe\n Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly\n Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n [Joe Budden:]\n They say he a bastard for real\n Then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n Endless, move more then 2 inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this, or see me manana\n Or see the speed of a llama\n Underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n So ya'll could bump swag like us\n But the next time rap's discussed\n Add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass\n But the fags might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n Chicks removing they drawls\n Now your crew is in awe\n How you ball?\n Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor,\n To process it, I'll set it\n I said it!\n So keep running around hot headed\n Till you get hot leaded\n Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L!\n"},{"id":23990893,"name":"Slaughterhouse Ft. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9","trackName":"Slaughterhouse Ft. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Halfway House-WEB","duration":421.809125,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n[Joell Ortiz:]\nI define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\nHip hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother\nMy mind hovers above all you jive suckers\nListen, that's word to my mother\nYou throw a shot at me\nI'm throwing a shot back\nYour's is on a joint\nMine's whistling by your top hat\nYa I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\nThey fifth is lyin in they second drawer\nNext door to some bullshit they ironed\nYa'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\nThe pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n[Nino Bless:]\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\nThat term's done fucka, what up whatever\nYou bird's is food\nI'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\nPlus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar, you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDroppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\nSwear on my pops, no fear in my heart\nShit, been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\nLike sick cracker shit\nGet back dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\nDog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white\nWhen I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\nDon't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\nYou was a willy\nNow you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense\nI really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolvin, but grown bitter\nOn your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n[Crooked I:]\nI don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\nI breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\nUnless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\nForever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\nOnly when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\nThe dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\nIn my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\nFrom Switzerland to New York\nI was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\nI'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\nSicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\nDay old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\nTryin to keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI'll send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n[Royce Da 59:]\nI hope niggas know\nI'll show up to ya show\nI'll show up where you go\nShow up to ya door\n4's will explode shells\nFor they hit the flo'\nI know niggas know\nI got an open window flow\nI air shit out\nIn the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why?\nShiiiiiiiiiieeett\nCause when it come to them words\nYou know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like white lines\nOn the nose tray\nIce cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRiding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay hummin'\nLike strummin' the mandolin or violin\nSpeaking of, I done played into the violence\nMore then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\nIf I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTill it ain't no more, ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed\nI'm a living anal probe\nI'm a lame-a-phobe\nMatter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n(WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\nNow I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly\nGoin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n[Joe Budden:]\nThey say he a bastard for real\nThen they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\nEndless, move more then 2 inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this, or see me manana\nOr see the speed of a llama\nUnderground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\nWhen it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a box, wait\nZipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\nSo ya'll could bump swag like us\nBut the next time rap's discussed\nAdd this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass\nBut the fags might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\nChicks removing they drawls\nNow your crew is in awe\nHow you ball?\nYour jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor,\nTo process it, I'll set it\nI said it!\nSo keep running around hot headed\nTill you get hot leaded\nTill everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L!","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.31] (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n[00:10.25] [Joell Ortiz:]\n[00:10.88] I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n[00:11.53] Hip hop got my spine smothered\n[00:12.76] But I'll be fine brother\n[00:13.55] My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n[00:14.89] Listen, that's word to my mother\n[00:16.32] You throw a shot at me\n[00:17.56] I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.77] Your's is on a joint\n[00:19.95] Mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.36] Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.50] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:25.97] I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n[00:28.03] They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n[00:29.80] Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n[00:31.77] Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n[00:34.25] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n[00:36.72] I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n[00:38.90] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n[00:41.65] Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n[00:44.41] The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n[00:47.17] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.51] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:51.96] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:54.68] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.09] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[00:59.37] I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.30] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.63] You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n[01:07.11] [Nino Bless:]\n[01:07.71] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n[01:10.28] That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n[01:12.30] You bird's is food\n[01:14.05] I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n[01:16.25] Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n[01:19.45] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:22.95] I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n[01:25.08] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.92] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.52] Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n[01:33.33] Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n[01:37.18] Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n[01:39.53] Shit, been through it all\n[01:41.50] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.62] I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.53] Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n[01:49.58] Like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.17] Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.25] Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n[01:54.99] Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.33] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.47] You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n[02:01.56] When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n[02:03.75] Don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.23] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.45] When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n[02:10.15] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.30] I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:15.66] What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n[02:18.27] You was a willy\n[02:19.41] Now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.88] I ain't with that silly nonsense\n[02:22.45] I really pop shit\n[02:23.81] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:25.63] I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n[02:28.41] On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n[02:30.77] [Crooked I:]\n[02:31.59] I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n[02:33.19] I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.50] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n[02:37.82] Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n[02:40.73] Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.08] Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n[02:45.45] Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n[02:48.84] The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n[02:51.50] You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n[02:54.09] I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n[02:55.92] In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n[03:01.18] From Switzerland to New York\n[03:02.25] I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n[03:03.02] I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.51] Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n[03:06.92] Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n[03:09.79] Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:14.07] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:14.75] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:16.94] Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.01] The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n[03:21.15] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:23.00] I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.28] Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n[03:27.46] It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n[03:30.68] Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:32.84] [Royce Da 59:]\n[03:33.48] I hope niggas know\n[03:34.82] I'll show up to ya show\n[03:35.95] I'll show up where you go\n[03:36.86] Show up to ya door\n[03:37.91] 4's will explode shells\n[03:39.25] For they hit the flo'\n[03:40.25] I know niggas know\n[03:41.13] I got an open window flow\n[03:42.58] I air shit out\n[03:43.84] In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.09] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.82] Guess why?\n[03:49.44] Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n[03:51.28] Cause when it come to them words\n[03:52.55] You know I wear shit out\n[03:54.43] I write rhymes like white lines\n[03:56.43] On the nose tray\n[03:57.78] Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[03:59.55] Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.35] Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:05.57] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.92] Hammers stay hummin'\n[04:08.81] Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n[04:10.61] Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n[04:12.54] More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:15.16] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.22] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:20.82] Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n[04:23.43] If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.82] Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n[04:27.87] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n[04:29.62] I'm a living anal probe\n[04:31.24] I'm a lame-a-phobe\n[04:32.54] Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n[04:34.48] (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n[04:36.05] When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n[04:38.39] Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:40.64] I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.49] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:46.17] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.88] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.78] I'm like Marty McFly\n[04:53.81] Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.04] [Joe Budden:]\n[04:56.67] They say he a bastard for real\n[04:59.36] Then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.07] So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n[05:01.81] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:05.14] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.02] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.37] I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n[05:13.41] Endless, move more then 2 inches\n[05:15.55] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:18.58] So end this, or see me manana\n[05:20.83] Or see the speed of a llama\n[05:22.69] Underground prima donna\n[05:23.35] That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n[05:24.16] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:25.61] I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.58] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.17] My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n[05:35.89] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.41] Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n[05:40.80] When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.02] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.09] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.86] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.32] Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n[05:54.33] Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n[05:56.55] Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n[05:58.80] So ya'll could bump swag like us\n[06:01.61] But the next time rap's discussed\n[06:03.84] Add this as a plus\n[06:04.90] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.74] And would get up in that ass\n[06:08.22] But the fags might bust\n[06:09.67] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.81] I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n[06:14.33] Chicks removing they drawls\n[06:17.02] Now your crew is in awe\n[06:19.73] How you ball?\n[06:20.51] Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:21.04] You gon' need another processor,\n[06:22.58] To process it, I'll set it\n[06:23.20] I said it!\n[06:23.98] So keep running around hot headed\n[06:26.48] Till you get hot leaded\n[06:27.95] Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:29.94] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.59] Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n[06:35.24] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n[06:38.31] With Joe spell, NO L!\n[06:41.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse Ft. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: Halfway House-WEB\n duration_ms: 421809\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n start_ms: 9310\n end_ms: 10250\n- text: '[Joell Ortiz:]'\n start_ms: 10250\n end_ms: 10880\n- text: I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n start_ms: 10880\n end_ms: 11530\n- text: Hip hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 11530\n end_ms: 12760\n- text: But I'll be fine brother\n start_ms: 12760\n end_ms: 13550\n- text: My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n start_ms: 13550\n end_ms: 14890\n- text: Listen, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 14890\n end_ms: 16320\n- text: You throw a shot at me\n start_ms: 16320\n end_ms: 17560\n- text: I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 17560\n end_ms: 18770\n- text: Your's is on a joint\n start_ms: 18770\n end_ms: 19950\n- text: Mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 19950\n end_ms: 21360\n- text: Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21360\n end_ms: 23500\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23500\n end_ms: 25970\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n start_ms: 25970\n end_ms: 28030\n- text: They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n start_ms: 28030\n end_ms: 29800\n- text: Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n start_ms: 29800\n end_ms: 31770\n- text: Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n start_ms: 31770\n end_ms: 34250\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n start_ms: 34250\n end_ms: 36720\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n start_ms: 36720\n end_ms: 38900\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n start_ms: 38900\n end_ms: 41650\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n start_ms: 41650\n end_ms: 44410\n- text: The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n start_ms: 44410\n end_ms: 47170\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47170\n end_ms: 49510\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49510\n end_ms: 51960\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 51960\n end_ms: 54680\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 54680\n end_ms: 57090\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57090\n end_ms: 59370\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 59370\n end_ms: 62300\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62300\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 67110\n- text: '[Nino Bless:]'\n start_ms: 67110\n end_ms: 67710\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n start_ms: 67710\n end_ms: 70280\n- text: That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70280\n end_ms: 72300\n- text: You bird's is food\n start_ms: 72300\n end_ms: 74050\n- text: I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n start_ms: 74050\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 79450\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 79450\n end_ms: 82950\n- text: I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n start_ms: 82950\n end_ms: 85080\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85080\n end_ms: 87920\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87920\n end_ms: 90520\n- text: Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90520\n end_ms: 93330\n- text: Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n start_ms: 93330\n end_ms: 97180\n- text: Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n start_ms: 97180\n end_ms: 99530\n- text: Shit, been through it all\n start_ms: 99530\n end_ms: 101500\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101500\n end_ms: 103620\n- text: I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103620\n end_ms: 106530\n- text: Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n start_ms: 106530\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 110170\n- text: Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110170\n end_ms: 112250\n- text: Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n start_ms: 112250\n end_ms: 114990\n- text: Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 114990\n end_ms: 117330\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117330\n end_ms: 119470\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n start_ms: 119470\n end_ms: 121560\n- text: When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n start_ms: 121560\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 125230\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125230\n end_ms: 127450\n- text: When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n start_ms: 127450\n end_ms: 130150\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130150\n end_ms: 133300\n- text: I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133300\n end_ms: 135660\n- text: What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n start_ms: 135660\n end_ms: 138270\n- text: You was a willy\n start_ms: 138270\n end_ms: 139410\n- text: Now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 139410\n end_ms: 140880\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense\n start_ms: 140880\n end_ms: 142450\n- text: I really pop shit\n start_ms: 142450\n end_ms: 143810\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143810\n end_ms: 145630\n- text: I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n start_ms: 145630\n end_ms: 148410\n- text: On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n start_ms: 148410\n end_ms: 150770\n- text: '[Crooked I:]'\n start_ms: 150770\n end_ms: 151590\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n start_ms: 151590\n end_ms: 153190\n- text: I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 153190\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 157820\n- text: Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n start_ms: 157820\n end_ms: 160730\n- text: Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160730\n end_ms: 163080\n- text: Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n start_ms: 163080\n end_ms: 165450\n- text: Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n start_ms: 165450\n end_ms: 168840\n- text: The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 168840\n end_ms: 171500\n- text: You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n start_ms: 171500\n end_ms: 174090\n- text: I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n start_ms: 174090\n end_ms: 175920\n- text: In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n start_ms: 175920\n end_ms: 181180\n- text: From Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 181180\n end_ms: 182250\n- text: I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n start_ms: 182250\n end_ms: 183020\n- text: I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 183020\n end_ms: 184510\n- text: Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n start_ms: 184510\n end_ms: 186920\n- text: Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n start_ms: 186920\n end_ms: 189790\n- text: Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 189790\n end_ms: 194070\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 194070\n end_ms: 194750\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 194750\n end_ms: 196940\n- text: Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 196940\n end_ms: 199010\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199010\n end_ms: 201150\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 201150\n end_ms: 203000\n- text: I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 203000\n end_ms: 205280\n- text: Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n start_ms: 205280\n end_ms: 207460\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n start_ms: 207460\n end_ms: 210680\n- text: Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 210680\n end_ms: 212840\n- text: '[Royce Da 59:]'\n start_ms: 212840\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: I hope niggas know\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214820\n- text: I'll show up to ya show\n start_ms: 214820\n end_ms: 215950\n- text: I'll show up where you go\n start_ms: 215950\n end_ms: 216860\n- text: Show up to ya door\n start_ms: 216860\n end_ms: 217910\n- text: 4's will explode shells\n start_ms: 217910\n end_ms: 219250\n- text: For they hit the flo'\n start_ms: 219250\n end_ms: 220250\n- text: I know niggas know\n start_ms: 220250\n end_ms: 221130\n- text: I got an open window flow\n start_ms: 221130\n end_ms: 222580\n- text: I air shit out\n start_ms: 222580\n end_ms: 223840\n- text: In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223840\n end_ms: 226090\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226090\n end_ms: 227820\n- text: Guess why?\n start_ms: 227820\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 231280\n- text: Cause when it come to them words\n start_ms: 231280\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: You know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 234430\n- text: I write rhymes like white lines\n start_ms: 234430\n end_ms: 236430\n- text: On the nose tray\n start_ms: 236430\n end_ms: 237780\n- text: Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237780\n end_ms: 239550\n- text: Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 239550\n end_ms: 242350\n- text: Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242350\n end_ms: 245570\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 245570\n end_ms: 247920\n- text: Hammers stay hummin'\n start_ms: 247920\n end_ms: 248810\n- text: Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n start_ms: 248810\n end_ms: 250610\n- text: Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n start_ms: 250610\n end_ms: 252540\n- text: More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252540\n end_ms: 255160\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 255160\n end_ms: 258220\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258220\n end_ms: 260820\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n start_ms: 260820\n end_ms: 263430\n- text: If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263430\n end_ms: 265820\n- text: Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265820\n end_ms: 267870\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n start_ms: 267870\n end_ms: 269620\n- text: I'm a living anal probe\n start_ms: 269620\n end_ms: 271240\n- text: I'm a lame-a-phobe\n start_ms: 271240\n end_ms: 272540\n- text: Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n start_ms: 272540\n end_ms: 274480\n- text: (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n start_ms: 274480\n end_ms: 276050\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n start_ms: 276050\n end_ms: 278390\n- text: Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278390\n end_ms: 280640\n- text: I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 280640\n end_ms: 283490\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283490\n end_ms: 286170\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 286170\n end_ms: 288880\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288880\n end_ms: 291780\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly\n start_ms: 291780\n end_ms: 293810\n- text: Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 293810\n end_ms: 296040\n- text: '[Joe Budden:]'\n start_ms: 296040\n end_ms: 296670\n- text: They say he a bastard for real\n start_ms: 296670\n end_ms: 299360\n- text: Then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 299360\n end_ms: 300070\n- text: So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300070\n end_ms: 301810\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301810\n end_ms: 305140\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 305140\n end_ms: 307020\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307020\n end_ms: 309370\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n start_ms: 309370\n end_ms: 313410\n- text: Endless, move more then 2 inches\n start_ms: 313410\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315550\n end_ms: 318580\n- text: So end this, or see me manana\n start_ms: 318580\n end_ms: 320830\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama\n start_ms: 320830\n end_ms: 322690\n- text: Underground prima donna\n start_ms: 322690\n end_ms: 323350\n- text: That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n start_ms: 323350\n end_ms: 324160\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 324160\n end_ms: 325610\n- text: I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 325610\n end_ms: 330580\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330580\n end_ms: 333170\n- text: My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n start_ms: 333170\n end_ms: 335890\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 335890\n end_ms: 338410\n- text: Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n start_ms: 338410\n end_ms: 340800\n- text: When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340800\n end_ms: 343020\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343020\n end_ms: 346090\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346090\n end_ms: 348860\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348860\n end_ms: 351320\n- text: Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n start_ms: 351320\n end_ms: 354330\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n start_ms: 354330\n end_ms: 356550\n- text: Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n start_ms: 356550\n end_ms: 358800\n- text: So ya'll could bump swag like us\n start_ms: 358800\n end_ms: 361610\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed\n start_ms: 361610\n end_ms: 363840\n- text: Add this as a plus\n start_ms: 363840\n end_ms: 364900\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364900\n end_ms: 366740\n- text: And would get up in that ass\n start_ms: 366740\n end_ms: 368220\n- text: But the fags might bust\n start_ms: 368220\n end_ms: 369670\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369670\n end_ms: 371810\n- text: I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n start_ms: 371810\n end_ms: 374330\n- text: Chicks removing they drawls\n start_ms: 374330\n end_ms: 377020\n- text: Now your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 377020\n end_ms: 379730\n- text: How you ball?\n start_ms: 379730\n end_ms: 380510\n- text: Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 380510\n end_ms: 381040\n- text: You gon' need another processor,\n start_ms: 381040\n end_ms: 382580\n- text: To process it, I'll set it\n start_ms: 382580\n end_ms: 383200\n- text: I said it!\n start_ms: 383200\n end_ms: 383980\n- text: So keep running around hot headed\n start_ms: 383980\n end_ms: 386480\n- text: Till you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 386480\n end_ms: 387950\n- text: Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387950\n end_ms: 389940\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 389940\n end_ms: 392590\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n start_ms: 392590\n end_ms: 395240\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n start_ms: 395240\n end_ms: 398310\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L!\n start_ms: 398310\n end_ms: 401090\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 401090\nplain: |-\n (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n [Joell Ortiz:]\n I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n Hip hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother\n My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n Listen, that's word to my mother\n You throw a shot at me\n I'm throwing a shot back\n Your's is on a joint\n Mine's whistling by your top hat\n Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n [Nino Bless:]\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n You bird's is food\n I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n Shit, been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n Like sick cracker shit\n Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n Don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n You was a willy\n Now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense\n I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n [Crooked I:]\n I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n From Switzerland to New York\n I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n [Royce Da 59:]\n I hope niggas know\n I'll show up to ya show\n I'll show up where you go\n Show up to ya door\n 4's will explode shells\n For they hit the flo'\n I know niggas know\n I got an open window flow\n I air shit out\n In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why?\n Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n Cause when it come to them words\n You know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like white lines\n On the nose tray\n Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay hummin'\n Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n I'm a living anal probe\n I'm a lame-a-phobe\n Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly\n Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n [Joe Budden:]\n They say he a bastard for real\n Then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n Endless, move more then 2 inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this, or see me manana\n Or see the speed of a llama\n Underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n So ya'll could bump swag like us\n But the next time rap's discussed\n Add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass\n But the fags might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n Chicks removing they drawls\n Now your crew is in awe\n How you ball?\n Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor,\n To process it, I'll set it\n I said it!\n So keep running around hot headed\n Till you get hot leaded\n Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L!\n"},{"id":9972380,"name":"Slaughterhouse (feat. Joell Ortiz, Crooked I, Nino Bless & Royce da 5'9)","trackName":"Slaughterhouse (feat. Joell Ortiz, Crooked I, Nino Bless & Royce da 5'9)","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Halfway House","duration":422.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n[Joell Ortiz:]\nI define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\nHip hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother\nMy mind hovers above all you jive suckers\nListen, that's word to my mother\nYou throw a shot at me\nI'm throwing a shot back\nYour's is on a joint\nMine's whistling by your top hat\nYa I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\nThey fifth is lyin in they second drawer\nNext door to some bullshit they ironed\nYa'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\nThe pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n[Nino Bless:]\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\nThat term's done fucka, what up whatever\nYou bird's is food\nI'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\nPlus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar, you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDroppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\nSwear on my pops, no fear in my heart\nShit, been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\nLike sick cracker shit\nGet back dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\nDog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white\nWhen I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\nDon't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\nYou was a willy\nNow you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense\nI really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolvin, but grown bitter\nOn your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n[Crooked I:]\nI don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\nI breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\nUnless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\nForever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\nOnly when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\nThe dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\nIn my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\nFrom Switzerland to New York\nI was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\nI'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\nSicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\nDay old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\nTryin to keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI'll send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n[Royce Da 59:]\nI hope niggas know\nI'll show up to ya show\nI'll show up where you go\nShow up to ya door\n4's will explode shells\nFor they hit the flo'\nI know niggas know\nI got an open window flow\nI air shit out\nIn the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why?\nShiiiiiiiiiieeett\nCause when it come to them words\nYou know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like white lines\nOn the nose tray\nIce cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRiding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay hummin'\nLike strummin' the mandolin or violin\nSpeaking of, I done played into the violence\nMore then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\nIf I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTill it ain't no more, ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed\nI'm a living anal probe\nI'm a lame-a-phobe\nMatter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n(WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\nNow I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly\nGoin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n[Joe Budden:]\nThey say he a bastard for real\nThen they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\nEndless, move more then 2 inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this, or see me manana\nOr see the speed of a llama\nUnderground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\nWhen it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a box, wait\nZipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\nSo ya'll could bump swag like us\nBut the next time rap's discussed\nAdd this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass\nBut the fags might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\nChicks removing they drawls\nNow your crew is in awe\nHow you ball?\nYour jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor,\nTo process it, I'll set it\nI said it!\nSo keep running around hot headed\nTill you get hot leaded\nTill everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L!","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.31] (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n[00:10.25] [Joell Ortiz:]\n[00:10.88] I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n[00:11.53] Hip hop got my spine smothered\n[00:12.76] But I'll be fine brother\n[00:13.55] My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n[00:14.89] Listen, that's word to my mother\n[00:16.32] You throw a shot at me\n[00:17.56] I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.77] Your's is on a joint\n[00:19.95] Mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.36] Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.50] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:25.97] I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n[00:28.03] They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n[00:29.80] Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n[00:31.77] Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n[00:34.25] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n[00:36.72] I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n[00:38.90] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n[00:41.65] Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n[00:44.41] The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n[00:47.17] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.51] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:51.96] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:54.68] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.09] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[00:59.37] I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.30] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.63] You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n[01:07.11] [Nino Bless:]\n[01:07.71] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n[01:10.28] That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n[01:12.30] You bird's is food\n[01:14.05] I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n[01:16.25] Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n[01:19.45] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:22.95] I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n[01:25.08] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.92] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.52] Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n[01:33.33] Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n[01:37.18] Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n[01:39.53] Shit, been through it all\n[01:41.50] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.62] I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.53] Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n[01:49.58] Like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.17] Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.25] Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n[01:54.99] Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.33] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.47] You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n[02:01.56] When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n[02:03.75] Don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.23] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.45] When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n[02:10.15] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.30] I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:15.66] What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n[02:18.27] You was a willy\n[02:19.41] Now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.88] I ain't with that silly nonsense\n[02:22.45] I really pop shit\n[02:23.81] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:25.63] I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n[02:28.41] On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n[02:30.77] [Crooked I:]\n[02:31.59] I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n[02:33.19] I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.50] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n[02:37.82] Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n[02:40.73] Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.08] Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n[02:45.45] Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n[02:48.84] The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n[02:51.50] You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n[02:54.09] I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n[02:55.92] In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n[03:01.18] From Switzerland to New York\n[03:02.25] I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n[03:03.02] I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.51] Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n[03:06.92] Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n[03:09.79] Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:14.07] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:14.75] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:16.94] Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.01] The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n[03:21.15] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:23.00] I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.28] Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n[03:27.46] It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n[03:30.68] Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:32.84] [Royce Da 59:]\n[03:33.48] I hope niggas know\n[03:34.82] I'll show up to ya show\n[03:35.95] I'll show up where you go\n[03:36.86] Show up to ya door\n[03:37.91] 4's will explode shells\n[03:39.25] For they hit the flo'\n[03:40.25] I know niggas know\n[03:41.13] I got an open window flow\n[03:42.58] I air shit out\n[03:43.84] In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.09] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.82] Guess why?\n[03:49.44] Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n[03:51.28] Cause when it come to them words\n[03:52.55] You know I wear shit out\n[03:54.43] I write rhymes like white lines\n[03:56.43] On the nose tray\n[03:57.78] Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[03:59.55] Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.35] Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:05.57] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.92] Hammers stay hummin'\n[04:08.81] Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n[04:10.61] Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n[04:12.54] More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:15.16] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.22] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:20.82] Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n[04:23.43] If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.82] Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n[04:27.87] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n[04:29.62] I'm a living anal probe\n[04:31.24] I'm a lame-a-phobe\n[04:32.54] Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n[04:34.48] (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n[04:36.05] When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n[04:38.39] Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:40.64] I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.49] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:46.17] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.88] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.78] I'm like Marty McFly\n[04:53.81] Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.04] [Joe Budden:]\n[04:56.67] They say he a bastard for real\n[04:59.36] Then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.07] So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n[05:01.81] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:05.14] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.02] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.37] I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n[05:13.41] Endless, move more then 2 inches\n[05:15.55] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:18.58] So end this, or see me manana\n[05:20.83] Or see the speed of a llama\n[05:22.69] Underground prima donna\n[05:23.35] That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n[05:24.16] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:25.61] I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.58] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.17] My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n[05:35.89] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.41] Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n[05:40.80] When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.02] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.09] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.86] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.32] Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n[05:54.33] Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n[05:56.55] Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n[05:58.80] So ya'll could bump swag like us\n[06:01.61] But the next time rap's discussed\n[06:03.84] Add this as a plus\n[06:04.90] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.74] And would get up in that ass\n[06:08.22] But the fags might bust\n[06:09.67] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.81] I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n[06:14.33] Chicks removing they drawls\n[06:17.02] Now your crew is in awe\n[06:19.73] How you ball?\n[06:20.51] Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:21.04] You gon' need another processor,\n[06:22.58] To process it, I'll set it\n[06:23.20] I said it!\n[06:23.98] So keep running around hot headed\n[06:26.48] Till you get hot leaded\n[06:27.95] Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:29.94] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.59] Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n[06:35.24] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n[06:38.31] With Joe spell, NO L!\n[06:41.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse (feat. Joell Ortiz, Crooked I, Nino Bless & Royce da 5'9)\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: Halfway House\n duration_ms: 422000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n start_ms: 9310\n end_ms: 10250\n- text: '[Joell Ortiz:]'\n start_ms: 10250\n end_ms: 10880\n- text: I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n start_ms: 10880\n end_ms: 11530\n- text: Hip hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 11530\n end_ms: 12760\n- text: But I'll be fine brother\n start_ms: 12760\n end_ms: 13550\n- text: My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n start_ms: 13550\n end_ms: 14890\n- text: Listen, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 14890\n end_ms: 16320\n- text: You throw a shot at me\n start_ms: 16320\n end_ms: 17560\n- text: I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 17560\n end_ms: 18770\n- text: Your's is on a joint\n start_ms: 18770\n end_ms: 19950\n- text: Mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 19950\n end_ms: 21360\n- text: Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21360\n end_ms: 23500\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23500\n end_ms: 25970\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n start_ms: 25970\n end_ms: 28030\n- text: They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n start_ms: 28030\n end_ms: 29800\n- text: Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n start_ms: 29800\n end_ms: 31770\n- text: Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n start_ms: 31770\n end_ms: 34250\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n start_ms: 34250\n end_ms: 36720\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n start_ms: 36720\n end_ms: 38900\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n start_ms: 38900\n end_ms: 41650\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n start_ms: 41650\n end_ms: 44410\n- text: The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n start_ms: 44410\n end_ms: 47170\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47170\n end_ms: 49510\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49510\n end_ms: 51960\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 51960\n end_ms: 54680\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 54680\n end_ms: 57090\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57090\n end_ms: 59370\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 59370\n end_ms: 62300\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62300\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 67110\n- text: '[Nino Bless:]'\n start_ms: 67110\n end_ms: 67710\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n start_ms: 67710\n end_ms: 70280\n- text: That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70280\n end_ms: 72300\n- text: You bird's is food\n start_ms: 72300\n end_ms: 74050\n- text: I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n start_ms: 74050\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 79450\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 79450\n end_ms: 82950\n- text: I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n start_ms: 82950\n end_ms: 85080\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85080\n end_ms: 87920\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87920\n end_ms: 90520\n- text: Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90520\n end_ms: 93330\n- text: Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n start_ms: 93330\n end_ms: 97180\n- text: Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n start_ms: 97180\n end_ms: 99530\n- text: Shit, been through it all\n start_ms: 99530\n end_ms: 101500\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101500\n end_ms: 103620\n- text: I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103620\n end_ms: 106530\n- text: Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n start_ms: 106530\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 110170\n- text: Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110170\n end_ms: 112250\n- text: Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n start_ms: 112250\n end_ms: 114990\n- text: Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 114990\n end_ms: 117330\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117330\n end_ms: 119470\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n start_ms: 119470\n end_ms: 121560\n- text: When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n start_ms: 121560\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 125230\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125230\n end_ms: 127450\n- text: When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n start_ms: 127450\n end_ms: 130150\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130150\n end_ms: 133300\n- text: I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133300\n end_ms: 135660\n- text: What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n start_ms: 135660\n end_ms: 138270\n- text: You was a willy\n start_ms: 138270\n end_ms: 139410\n- text: Now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 139410\n end_ms: 140880\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense\n start_ms: 140880\n end_ms: 142450\n- text: I really pop shit\n start_ms: 142450\n end_ms: 143810\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143810\n end_ms: 145630\n- text: I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n start_ms: 145630\n end_ms: 148410\n- text: On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n start_ms: 148410\n end_ms: 150770\n- text: '[Crooked I:]'\n start_ms: 150770\n end_ms: 151590\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n start_ms: 151590\n end_ms: 153190\n- text: I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 153190\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 157820\n- text: Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n start_ms: 157820\n end_ms: 160730\n- text: Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160730\n end_ms: 163080\n- text: Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n start_ms: 163080\n end_ms: 165450\n- text: Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n start_ms: 165450\n end_ms: 168840\n- text: The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 168840\n end_ms: 171500\n- text: You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n start_ms: 171500\n end_ms: 174090\n- text: I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n start_ms: 174090\n end_ms: 175920\n- text: In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n start_ms: 175920\n end_ms: 181180\n- text: From Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 181180\n end_ms: 182250\n- text: I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n start_ms: 182250\n end_ms: 183020\n- text: I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 183020\n end_ms: 184510\n- text: Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n start_ms: 184510\n end_ms: 186920\n- text: Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n start_ms: 186920\n end_ms: 189790\n- text: Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 189790\n end_ms: 194070\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 194070\n end_ms: 194750\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 194750\n end_ms: 196940\n- text: Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 196940\n end_ms: 199010\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199010\n end_ms: 201150\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 201150\n end_ms: 203000\n- text: I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 203000\n end_ms: 205280\n- text: Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n start_ms: 205280\n end_ms: 207460\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n start_ms: 207460\n end_ms: 210680\n- text: Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 210680\n end_ms: 212840\n- text: '[Royce Da 59:]'\n start_ms: 212840\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: I hope niggas know\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214820\n- text: I'll show up to ya show\n start_ms: 214820\n end_ms: 215950\n- text: I'll show up where you go\n start_ms: 215950\n end_ms: 216860\n- text: Show up to ya door\n start_ms: 216860\n end_ms: 217910\n- text: 4's will explode shells\n start_ms: 217910\n end_ms: 219250\n- text: For they hit the flo'\n start_ms: 219250\n end_ms: 220250\n- text: I know niggas know\n start_ms: 220250\n end_ms: 221130\n- text: I got an open window flow\n start_ms: 221130\n end_ms: 222580\n- text: I air shit out\n start_ms: 222580\n end_ms: 223840\n- text: In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223840\n end_ms: 226090\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226090\n end_ms: 227820\n- text: Guess why?\n start_ms: 227820\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 231280\n- text: Cause when it come to them words\n start_ms: 231280\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: You know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 234430\n- text: I write rhymes like white lines\n start_ms: 234430\n end_ms: 236430\n- text: On the nose tray\n start_ms: 236430\n end_ms: 237780\n- text: Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237780\n end_ms: 239550\n- text: Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 239550\n end_ms: 242350\n- text: Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242350\n end_ms: 245570\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 245570\n end_ms: 247920\n- text: Hammers stay hummin'\n start_ms: 247920\n end_ms: 248810\n- text: Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n start_ms: 248810\n end_ms: 250610\n- text: Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n start_ms: 250610\n end_ms: 252540\n- text: More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252540\n end_ms: 255160\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 255160\n end_ms: 258220\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258220\n end_ms: 260820\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n start_ms: 260820\n end_ms: 263430\n- text: If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263430\n end_ms: 265820\n- text: Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265820\n end_ms: 267870\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n start_ms: 267870\n end_ms: 269620\n- text: I'm a living anal probe\n start_ms: 269620\n end_ms: 271240\n- text: I'm a lame-a-phobe\n start_ms: 271240\n end_ms: 272540\n- text: Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n start_ms: 272540\n end_ms: 274480\n- text: (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n start_ms: 274480\n end_ms: 276050\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n start_ms: 276050\n end_ms: 278390\n- text: Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278390\n end_ms: 280640\n- text: I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 280640\n end_ms: 283490\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283490\n end_ms: 286170\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 286170\n end_ms: 288880\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288880\n end_ms: 291780\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly\n start_ms: 291780\n end_ms: 293810\n- text: Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 293810\n end_ms: 296040\n- text: '[Joe Budden:]'\n start_ms: 296040\n end_ms: 296670\n- text: They say he a bastard for real\n start_ms: 296670\n end_ms: 299360\n- text: Then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 299360\n end_ms: 300070\n- text: So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300070\n end_ms: 301810\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301810\n end_ms: 305140\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 305140\n end_ms: 307020\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307020\n end_ms: 309370\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n start_ms: 309370\n end_ms: 313410\n- text: Endless, move more then 2 inches\n start_ms: 313410\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315550\n end_ms: 318580\n- text: So end this, or see me manana\n start_ms: 318580\n end_ms: 320830\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama\n start_ms: 320830\n end_ms: 322690\n- text: Underground prima donna\n start_ms: 322690\n end_ms: 323350\n- text: That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n start_ms: 323350\n end_ms: 324160\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 324160\n end_ms: 325610\n- text: I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 325610\n end_ms: 330580\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330580\n end_ms: 333170\n- text: My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n start_ms: 333170\n end_ms: 335890\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 335890\n end_ms: 338410\n- text: Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n start_ms: 338410\n end_ms: 340800\n- text: When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340800\n end_ms: 343020\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343020\n end_ms: 346090\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346090\n end_ms: 348860\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348860\n end_ms: 351320\n- text: Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n start_ms: 351320\n end_ms: 354330\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n start_ms: 354330\n end_ms: 356550\n- text: Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n start_ms: 356550\n end_ms: 358800\n- text: So ya'll could bump swag like us\n start_ms: 358800\n end_ms: 361610\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed\n start_ms: 361610\n end_ms: 363840\n- text: Add this as a plus\n start_ms: 363840\n end_ms: 364900\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364900\n end_ms: 366740\n- text: And would get up in that ass\n start_ms: 366740\n end_ms: 368220\n- text: But the fags might bust\n start_ms: 368220\n end_ms: 369670\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369670\n end_ms: 371810\n- text: I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n start_ms: 371810\n end_ms: 374330\n- text: Chicks removing they drawls\n start_ms: 374330\n end_ms: 377020\n- text: Now your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 377020\n end_ms: 379730\n- text: How you ball?\n start_ms: 379730\n end_ms: 380510\n- text: Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 380510\n end_ms: 381040\n- text: You gon' need another processor,\n start_ms: 381040\n end_ms: 382580\n- text: To process it, I'll set it\n start_ms: 382580\n end_ms: 383200\n- text: I said it!\n start_ms: 383200\n end_ms: 383980\n- text: So keep running around hot headed\n start_ms: 383980\n end_ms: 386480\n- text: Till you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 386480\n end_ms: 387950\n- text: Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387950\n end_ms: 389940\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 389940\n end_ms: 392590\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n start_ms: 392590\n end_ms: 395240\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n start_ms: 395240\n end_ms: 398310\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L!\n start_ms: 398310\n end_ms: 401090\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 401090\nplain: |-\n (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n [Joell Ortiz:]\n I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n Hip hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother\n My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n Listen, that's word to my mother\n You throw a shot at me\n I'm throwing a shot back\n Your's is on a joint\n Mine's whistling by your top hat\n Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n [Nino Bless:]\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n You bird's is food\n I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n Shit, been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n Like sick cracker shit\n Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n Don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n You was a willy\n Now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense\n I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n [Crooked I:]\n I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n From Switzerland to New York\n I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n [Royce Da 59:]\n I hope niggas know\n I'll show up to ya show\n I'll show up where you go\n Show up to ya door\n 4's will explode shells\n For they hit the flo'\n I know niggas know\n I got an open window flow\n I air shit out\n In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why?\n Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n Cause when it come to them words\n You know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like white lines\n On the nose tray\n Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay hummin'\n Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n I'm a living anal probe\n I'm a lame-a-phobe\n Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly\n Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n [Joe Budden:]\n They say he a bastard for real\n Then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n Endless, move more then 2 inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this, or see me manana\n Or see the speed of a llama\n Underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n So ya'll could bump swag like us\n But the next time rap's discussed\n Add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass\n But the fags might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n Chicks removing they drawls\n Now your crew is in awe\n How you ball?\n Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor,\n To process it, I'll set it\n I said it!\n So keep running around hot headed\n Till you get hot leaded\n Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L!\n"},{"id":20092044,"name":"Slaughterhouse feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I & Royce da 5′9″","trackName":"Slaughterhouse feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I & Royce da 5′9″","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Halfway House","duration":421.929796,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n[Joell Ortiz:]\nI define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\nHip hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother\nMy mind hovers above all you jive suckers\nListen, that's word to my mother\nYou throw a shot at me\nI'm throwing a shot back\nYour's is on a joint\nMine's whistling by your top hat\nYa I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\nThey fifth is lyin in they second drawer\nNext door to some bullshit they ironed\nYa'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\nThe pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n[Nino Bless:]\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\nThat term's done fucka, what up whatever\nYou bird's is food\nI'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\nPlus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar, you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDroppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\nSwear on my pops, no fear in my heart\nShit, been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\nLike sick cracker shit\nGet back dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\nDog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white\nWhen I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\nDon't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\nYou was a willy\nNow you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense\nI really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolvin, but grown bitter\nOn your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n[Crooked I:]\nI don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\nI breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\nUnless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\nForever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\nOnly when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\nThe dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\nIn my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\nFrom Switzerland to New York\nI was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\nI'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\nSicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\nDay old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\nTryin to keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI'll send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n[Royce Da 59:]\nI hope niggas know\nI'll show up to ya show\nI'll show up where you go\nShow up to ya door\n4's will explode shells\nFor they hit the flo'\nI know niggas know\nI got an open window flow\nI air shit out\nIn the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why?\nShiiiiiiiiiieeett\nCause when it come to them words\nYou know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like white lines\nOn the nose tray\nIce cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRiding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay hummin'\nLike strummin' the mandolin or violin\nSpeaking of, I done played into the violence\nMore then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\nIf I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTill it ain't no more, ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed\nI'm a living anal probe\nI'm a lame-a-phobe\nMatter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n(WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\nNow I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly\nGoin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n[Joe Budden:]\nThey say he a bastard for real\nThen they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\nEndless, move more then 2 inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this, or see me manana\nOr see the speed of a llama\nUnderground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\nWhen it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a box, wait\nZipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\nSo ya'll could bump swag like us\nBut the next time rap's discussed\nAdd this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass\nBut the fags might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\nChicks removing they drawls\nNow your crew is in awe\nHow you ball?\nYour jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor,\nTo process it, I'll set it\nI said it!\nSo keep running around hot headed\nTill you get hot leaded\nTill everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L!","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.31] (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n[00:10.25] [Joell Ortiz:]\n[00:10.88] I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n[00:11.53] Hip hop got my spine smothered\n[00:12.76] But I'll be fine brother\n[00:13.55] My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n[00:14.89] Listen, that's word to my mother\n[00:16.32] You throw a shot at me\n[00:17.56] I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.77] Your's is on a joint\n[00:19.95] Mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.36] Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.50] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:25.97] I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n[00:28.03] They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n[00:29.80] Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n[00:31.77] Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n[00:34.25] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n[00:36.72] I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n[00:38.90] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n[00:41.65] Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n[00:44.41] The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n[00:47.17] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.51] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:51.96] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:54.68] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.09] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[00:59.37] I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.30] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.63] You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n[01:07.11] [Nino Bless:]\n[01:07.71] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n[01:10.28] That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n[01:12.30] You bird's is food\n[01:14.05] I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n[01:16.25] Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n[01:19.45] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:22.95] I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n[01:25.08] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.92] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.52] Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n[01:33.33] Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n[01:37.18] Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n[01:39.53] Shit, been through it all\n[01:41.50] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.62] I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.53] Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n[01:49.58] Like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.17] Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.25] Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n[01:54.99] Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.33] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.47] You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n[02:01.56] When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n[02:03.75] Don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.23] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.45] When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n[02:10.15] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.30] I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:15.66] What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n[02:18.27] You was a willy\n[02:19.41] Now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.88] I ain't with that silly nonsense\n[02:22.45] I really pop shit\n[02:23.81] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:25.63] I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n[02:28.41] On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n[02:30.77] [Crooked I:]\n[02:31.59] I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n[02:33.19] I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.50] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n[02:37.82] Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n[02:40.73] Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.08] Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n[02:45.45] Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n[02:48.84] The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n[02:51.50] You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n[02:54.09] I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n[02:55.92] In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n[03:01.18] From Switzerland to New York\n[03:02.25] I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n[03:03.02] I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.51] Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n[03:06.92] Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n[03:09.79] Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:14.07] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:14.75] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:16.94] Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.01] The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n[03:21.15] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:23.00] I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.28] Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n[03:27.46] It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n[03:30.68] Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:32.84] [Royce Da 59:]\n[03:33.48] I hope niggas know\n[03:34.82] I'll show up to ya show\n[03:35.95] I'll show up where you go\n[03:36.86] Show up to ya door\n[03:37.91] 4's will explode shells\n[03:39.25] For they hit the flo'\n[03:40.25] I know niggas know\n[03:41.13] I got an open window flow\n[03:42.58] I air shit out\n[03:43.84] In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.09] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.82] Guess why?\n[03:49.44] Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n[03:51.28] Cause when it come to them words\n[03:52.55] You know I wear shit out\n[03:54.43] I write rhymes like white lines\n[03:56.43] On the nose tray\n[03:57.78] Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[03:59.55] Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.35] Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:05.57] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.92] Hammers stay hummin'\n[04:08.81] Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n[04:10.61] Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n[04:12.54] More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:15.16] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.22] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:20.82] Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n[04:23.43] If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.82] Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n[04:27.87] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n[04:29.62] I'm a living anal probe\n[04:31.24] I'm a lame-a-phobe\n[04:32.54] Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n[04:34.48] (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n[04:36.05] When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n[04:38.39] Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:40.64] I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.49] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:46.17] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.88] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.78] I'm like Marty McFly\n[04:53.81] Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.04] [Joe Budden:]\n[04:56.67] They say he a bastard for real\n[04:59.36] Then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.07] So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n[05:01.81] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:05.14] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.02] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.37] I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n[05:13.41] Endless, move more then 2 inches\n[05:15.55] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:18.58] So end this, or see me manana\n[05:20.83] Or see the speed of a llama\n[05:22.69] Underground prima donna\n[05:23.35] That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n[05:24.16] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:25.61] I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.58] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.17] My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n[05:35.89] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.41] Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n[05:40.80] When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.02] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.09] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.86] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.32] Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n[05:54.33] Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n[05:56.55] Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n[05:58.80] So ya'll could bump swag like us\n[06:01.61] But the next time rap's discussed\n[06:03.84] Add this as a plus\n[06:04.90] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.74] And would get up in that ass\n[06:08.22] But the fags might bust\n[06:09.67] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.81] I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n[06:14.33] Chicks removing they drawls\n[06:17.02] Now your crew is in awe\n[06:19.73] How you ball?\n[06:20.51] Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:21.04] You gon' need another processor,\n[06:22.58] To process it, I'll set it\n[06:23.20] I said it!\n[06:23.98] So keep running around hot headed\n[06:26.48] Till you get hot leaded\n[06:27.95] Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:29.94] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.59] Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n[06:35.24] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n[06:38.31] With Joe spell, NO L!\n[06:41.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I & Royce da 5′9″\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: Halfway House\n duration_ms: 421930\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n start_ms: 9310\n end_ms: 10250\n- text: '[Joell Ortiz:]'\n start_ms: 10250\n end_ms: 10880\n- text: I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n start_ms: 10880\n end_ms: 11530\n- text: Hip hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 11530\n end_ms: 12760\n- text: But I'll be fine brother\n start_ms: 12760\n end_ms: 13550\n- text: My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n start_ms: 13550\n end_ms: 14890\n- text: Listen, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 14890\n end_ms: 16320\n- text: You throw a shot at me\n start_ms: 16320\n end_ms: 17560\n- text: I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 17560\n end_ms: 18770\n- text: Your's is on a joint\n start_ms: 18770\n end_ms: 19950\n- text: Mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 19950\n end_ms: 21360\n- text: Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21360\n end_ms: 23500\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23500\n end_ms: 25970\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n start_ms: 25970\n end_ms: 28030\n- text: They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n start_ms: 28030\n end_ms: 29800\n- text: Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n start_ms: 29800\n end_ms: 31770\n- text: Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n start_ms: 31770\n end_ms: 34250\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n start_ms: 34250\n end_ms: 36720\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n start_ms: 36720\n end_ms: 38900\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n start_ms: 38900\n end_ms: 41650\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n start_ms: 41650\n end_ms: 44410\n- text: The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n start_ms: 44410\n end_ms: 47170\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47170\n end_ms: 49510\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49510\n end_ms: 51960\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 51960\n end_ms: 54680\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 54680\n end_ms: 57090\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57090\n end_ms: 59370\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 59370\n end_ms: 62300\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62300\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 67110\n- text: '[Nino Bless:]'\n start_ms: 67110\n end_ms: 67710\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n start_ms: 67710\n end_ms: 70280\n- text: That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70280\n end_ms: 72300\n- text: You bird's is food\n start_ms: 72300\n end_ms: 74050\n- text: I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n start_ms: 74050\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 79450\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 79450\n end_ms: 82950\n- text: I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n start_ms: 82950\n end_ms: 85080\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85080\n end_ms: 87920\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87920\n end_ms: 90520\n- text: Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90520\n end_ms: 93330\n- text: Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n start_ms: 93330\n end_ms: 97180\n- text: Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n start_ms: 97180\n end_ms: 99530\n- text: Shit, been through it all\n start_ms: 99530\n end_ms: 101500\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101500\n end_ms: 103620\n- text: I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103620\n end_ms: 106530\n- text: Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n start_ms: 106530\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 110170\n- text: Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110170\n end_ms: 112250\n- text: Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n start_ms: 112250\n end_ms: 114990\n- text: Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 114990\n end_ms: 117330\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117330\n end_ms: 119470\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n start_ms: 119470\n end_ms: 121560\n- text: When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n start_ms: 121560\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 125230\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125230\n end_ms: 127450\n- text: When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n start_ms: 127450\n end_ms: 130150\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130150\n end_ms: 133300\n- text: I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133300\n end_ms: 135660\n- text: What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n start_ms: 135660\n end_ms: 138270\n- text: You was a willy\n start_ms: 138270\n end_ms: 139410\n- text: Now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 139410\n end_ms: 140880\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense\n start_ms: 140880\n end_ms: 142450\n- text: I really pop shit\n start_ms: 142450\n end_ms: 143810\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143810\n end_ms: 145630\n- text: I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n start_ms: 145630\n end_ms: 148410\n- text: On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n start_ms: 148410\n end_ms: 150770\n- text: '[Crooked I:]'\n start_ms: 150770\n end_ms: 151590\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n start_ms: 151590\n end_ms: 153190\n- text: I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 153190\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 157820\n- text: Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n start_ms: 157820\n end_ms: 160730\n- text: Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160730\n end_ms: 163080\n- text: Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n start_ms: 163080\n end_ms: 165450\n- text: Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n start_ms: 165450\n end_ms: 168840\n- text: The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 168840\n end_ms: 171500\n- text: You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n start_ms: 171500\n end_ms: 174090\n- text: I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n start_ms: 174090\n end_ms: 175920\n- text: In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n start_ms: 175920\n end_ms: 181180\n- text: From Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 181180\n end_ms: 182250\n- text: I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n start_ms: 182250\n end_ms: 183020\n- text: I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 183020\n end_ms: 184510\n- text: Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n start_ms: 184510\n end_ms: 186920\n- text: Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n start_ms: 186920\n end_ms: 189790\n- text: Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 189790\n end_ms: 194070\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 194070\n end_ms: 194750\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 194750\n end_ms: 196940\n- text: Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 196940\n end_ms: 199010\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199010\n end_ms: 201150\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 201150\n end_ms: 203000\n- text: I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 203000\n end_ms: 205280\n- text: Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n start_ms: 205280\n end_ms: 207460\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n start_ms: 207460\n end_ms: 210680\n- text: Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 210680\n end_ms: 212840\n- text: '[Royce Da 59:]'\n start_ms: 212840\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: I hope niggas know\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214820\n- text: I'll show up to ya show\n start_ms: 214820\n end_ms: 215950\n- text: I'll show up where you go\n start_ms: 215950\n end_ms: 216860\n- text: Show up to ya door\n start_ms: 216860\n end_ms: 217910\n- text: 4's will explode shells\n start_ms: 217910\n end_ms: 219250\n- text: For they hit the flo'\n start_ms: 219250\n end_ms: 220250\n- text: I know niggas know\n start_ms: 220250\n end_ms: 221130\n- text: I got an open window flow\n start_ms: 221130\n end_ms: 222580\n- text: I air shit out\n start_ms: 222580\n end_ms: 223840\n- text: In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223840\n end_ms: 226090\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226090\n end_ms: 227820\n- text: Guess why?\n start_ms: 227820\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 231280\n- text: Cause when it come to them words\n start_ms: 231280\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: You know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 234430\n- text: I write rhymes like white lines\n start_ms: 234430\n end_ms: 236430\n- text: On the nose tray\n start_ms: 236430\n end_ms: 237780\n- text: Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237780\n end_ms: 239550\n- text: Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 239550\n end_ms: 242350\n- text: Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242350\n end_ms: 245570\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 245570\n end_ms: 247920\n- text: Hammers stay hummin'\n start_ms: 247920\n end_ms: 248810\n- text: Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n start_ms: 248810\n end_ms: 250610\n- text: Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n start_ms: 250610\n end_ms: 252540\n- text: More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252540\n end_ms: 255160\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 255160\n end_ms: 258220\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258220\n end_ms: 260820\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n start_ms: 260820\n end_ms: 263430\n- text: If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263430\n end_ms: 265820\n- text: Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265820\n end_ms: 267870\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n start_ms: 267870\n end_ms: 269620\n- text: I'm a living anal probe\n start_ms: 269620\n end_ms: 271240\n- text: I'm a lame-a-phobe\n start_ms: 271240\n end_ms: 272540\n- text: Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n start_ms: 272540\n end_ms: 274480\n- text: (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n start_ms: 274480\n end_ms: 276050\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n start_ms: 276050\n end_ms: 278390\n- text: Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278390\n end_ms: 280640\n- text: I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 280640\n end_ms: 283490\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283490\n end_ms: 286170\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 286170\n end_ms: 288880\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288880\n end_ms: 291780\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly\n start_ms: 291780\n end_ms: 293810\n- text: Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 293810\n end_ms: 296040\n- text: '[Joe Budden:]'\n start_ms: 296040\n end_ms: 296670\n- text: They say he a bastard for real\n start_ms: 296670\n end_ms: 299360\n- text: Then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 299360\n end_ms: 300070\n- text: So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300070\n end_ms: 301810\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301810\n end_ms: 305140\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 305140\n end_ms: 307020\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307020\n end_ms: 309370\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n start_ms: 309370\n end_ms: 313410\n- text: Endless, move more then 2 inches\n start_ms: 313410\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315550\n end_ms: 318580\n- text: So end this, or see me manana\n start_ms: 318580\n end_ms: 320830\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama\n start_ms: 320830\n end_ms: 322690\n- text: Underground prima donna\n start_ms: 322690\n end_ms: 323350\n- text: That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n start_ms: 323350\n end_ms: 324160\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 324160\n end_ms: 325610\n- text: I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 325610\n end_ms: 330580\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330580\n end_ms: 333170\n- text: My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n start_ms: 333170\n end_ms: 335890\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 335890\n end_ms: 338410\n- text: Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n start_ms: 338410\n end_ms: 340800\n- text: When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340800\n end_ms: 343020\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343020\n end_ms: 346090\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346090\n end_ms: 348860\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348860\n end_ms: 351320\n- text: Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n start_ms: 351320\n end_ms: 354330\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n start_ms: 354330\n end_ms: 356550\n- text: Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n start_ms: 356550\n end_ms: 358800\n- text: So ya'll could bump swag like us\n start_ms: 358800\n end_ms: 361610\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed\n start_ms: 361610\n end_ms: 363840\n- text: Add this as a plus\n start_ms: 363840\n end_ms: 364900\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364900\n end_ms: 366740\n- text: And would get up in that ass\n start_ms: 366740\n end_ms: 368220\n- text: But the fags might bust\n start_ms: 368220\n end_ms: 369670\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369670\n end_ms: 371810\n- text: I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n start_ms: 371810\n end_ms: 374330\n- text: Chicks removing they drawls\n start_ms: 374330\n end_ms: 377020\n- text: Now your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 377020\n end_ms: 379730\n- text: How you ball?\n start_ms: 379730\n end_ms: 380510\n- text: Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 380510\n end_ms: 381040\n- text: You gon' need another processor,\n start_ms: 381040\n end_ms: 382580\n- text: To process it, I'll set it\n start_ms: 382580\n end_ms: 383200\n- text: I said it!\n start_ms: 383200\n end_ms: 383980\n- text: So keep running around hot headed\n start_ms: 383980\n end_ms: 386480\n- text: Till you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 386480\n end_ms: 387950\n- text: Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387950\n end_ms: 389940\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 389940\n end_ms: 392590\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n start_ms: 392590\n end_ms: 395240\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n start_ms: 395240\n end_ms: 398310\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L!\n start_ms: 398310\n end_ms: 401090\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 401090\nplain: |-\n (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n [Joell Ortiz:]\n I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n Hip hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother\n My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n Listen, that's word to my mother\n You throw a shot at me\n I'm throwing a shot back\n Your's is on a joint\n Mine's whistling by your top hat\n Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n [Nino Bless:]\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n You bird's is food\n I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n Shit, been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n Like sick cracker shit\n Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n Don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n You was a willy\n Now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense\n I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n [Crooked I:]\n I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n From Switzerland to New York\n I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n [Royce Da 59:]\n I hope niggas know\n I'll show up to ya show\n I'll show up where you go\n Show up to ya door\n 4's will explode shells\n For they hit the flo'\n I know niggas know\n I got an open window flow\n I air shit out\n In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why?\n Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n Cause when it come to them words\n You know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like white lines\n On the nose tray\n Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay hummin'\n Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n I'm a living anal probe\n I'm a lame-a-phobe\n Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly\n Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n [Joe Budden:]\n They say he a bastard for real\n Then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n Endless, move more then 2 inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this, or see me manana\n Or see the speed of a llama\n Underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n So ya'll could bump swag like us\n But the next time rap's discussed\n Add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass\n But the fags might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n Chicks removing they drawls\n Now your crew is in awe\n How you ball?\n Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor,\n To process it, I'll set it\n I said it!\n So keep running around hot headed\n Till you get hot leaded\n Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L!\n"},{"id":37850025,"name":"Slaughterhouse feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, KXNG Crooked & Royce da 5′9″","trackName":"Slaughterhouse feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, KXNG Crooked & Royce da 5′9″","artistName":"Joe Budden","albumName":"Halfway House","duration":422.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n[Joell Ortiz:]\nI define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\nHip hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother\nMy mind hovers above all you jive suckers\nListen, that's word to my mother\nYou throw a shot at me\nI'm throwing a shot back\nYour's is on a joint\nMine's whistling by your top hat\nYa I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\nThey fifth is lyin in they second drawer\nNext door to some bullshit they ironed\nYa'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\nThe pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n[Nino Bless:]\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\nThat term's done fucka, what up whatever\nYou bird's is food\nI'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\nPlus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar, you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDroppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\nSwear on my pops, no fear in my heart\nShit, been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\nLike sick cracker shit\nGet back dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\nDog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white\nWhen I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\nDon't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\nYou was a willy\nNow you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense\nI really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolvin, but grown bitter\nOn your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n[Crooked I:]\nI don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\nI breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\nUnless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\nForever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\nOnly when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\nThe dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\nIn my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\nFrom Switzerland to New York\nI was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\nI'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\nSicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\nDay old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\nTryin to keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI'll send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n[Royce Da 59:]\nI hope niggas know\nI'll show up to ya show\nI'll show up where you go\nShow up to ya door\n4's will explode shells\nFor they hit the flo'\nI know niggas know\nI got an open window flow\nI air shit out\nIn the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why?\nShiiiiiiiiiieeett\nCause when it come to them words\nYou know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like white lines\nOn the nose tray\nIce cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRiding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay hummin'\nLike strummin' the mandolin or violin\nSpeaking of, I done played into the violence\nMore then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\nIf I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTill it ain't no more, ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed\nI'm a living anal probe\nI'm a lame-a-phobe\nMatter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n(WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\nNow I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly\nGoin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n[Joe Budden:]\nThey say he a bastard for real\nThen they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\nEndless, move more then 2 inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this, or see me manana\nOr see the speed of a llama\nUnderground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\nWhen it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a box, wait\nZipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\nSo ya'll could bump swag like us\nBut the next time rap's discussed\nAdd this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass\nBut the fags might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\nChicks removing they drawls\nNow your crew is in awe\nHow you ball?\nYour jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor,\nTo process it, I'll set it\nI said it!\nSo keep running around hot headed\nTill you get hot leaded\nTill everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L!","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.31] (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n[00:10.25] [Joell Ortiz:]\n[00:10.88] I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n[00:11.53] Hip hop got my spine smothered\n[00:12.76] But I'll be fine brother\n[00:13.55] My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n[00:14.89] Listen, that's word to my mother\n[00:16.32] You throw a shot at me\n[00:17.56] I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.77] Your's is on a joint\n[00:19.95] Mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.36] Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.50] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:25.97] I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n[00:28.03] They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n[00:29.80] Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n[00:31.77] Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n[00:34.25] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n[00:36.72] I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n[00:38.90] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n[00:41.65] Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n[00:44.41] The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n[00:47.17] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.51] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:51.96] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:54.68] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.09] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[00:59.37] I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.30] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.63] You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n[01:07.11] [Nino Bless:]\n[01:07.71] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n[01:10.28] That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n[01:12.30] You bird's is food\n[01:14.05] I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n[01:16.25] Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n[01:19.45] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:22.95] I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n[01:25.08] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.92] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.52] Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n[01:33.33] Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n[01:37.18] Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n[01:39.53] Shit, been through it all\n[01:41.50] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.62] I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.53] Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n[01:49.58] Like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.17] Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.25] Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n[01:54.99] Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.33] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.47] You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n[02:01.56] When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n[02:03.75] Don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.23] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.45] When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n[02:10.15] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.30] I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:15.66] What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n[02:18.27] You was a willy\n[02:19.41] Now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.88] I ain't with that silly nonsense\n[02:22.45] I really pop shit\n[02:23.81] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:25.63] I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n[02:28.41] On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n[02:30.77] [Crooked I:]\n[02:31.59] I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n[02:33.19] I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.50] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n[02:37.82] Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n[02:40.73] Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.08] Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n[02:45.45] Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n[02:48.84] The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n[02:51.50] You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n[02:54.09] I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n[02:55.92] In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n[03:01.18] From Switzerland to New York\n[03:02.25] I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n[03:03.02] I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.51] Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n[03:06.92] Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n[03:09.79] Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:14.07] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:14.75] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:16.94] Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.01] The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n[03:21.15] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:23.00] I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.28] Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n[03:27.46] It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n[03:30.68] Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:32.84] [Royce Da 59:]\n[03:33.48] I hope niggas know\n[03:34.82] I'll show up to ya show\n[03:35.95] I'll show up where you go\n[03:36.86] Show up to ya door\n[03:37.91] 4's will explode shells\n[03:39.25] For they hit the flo'\n[03:40.25] I know niggas know\n[03:41.13] I got an open window flow\n[03:42.58] I air shit out\n[03:43.84] In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.09] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.82] Guess why?\n[03:49.44] Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n[03:51.28] Cause when it come to them words\n[03:52.55] You know I wear shit out\n[03:54.43] I write rhymes like white lines\n[03:56.43] On the nose tray\n[03:57.78] Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[03:59.55] Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.35] Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:05.57] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.92] Hammers stay hummin'\n[04:08.81] Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n[04:10.61] Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n[04:12.54] More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:15.16] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.22] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:20.82] Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n[04:23.43] If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.82] Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n[04:27.87] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n[04:29.62] I'm a living anal probe\n[04:31.24] I'm a lame-a-phobe\n[04:32.54] Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n[04:34.48] (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n[04:36.05] When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n[04:38.39] Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:40.64] I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.49] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:46.17] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.88] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.78] I'm like Marty McFly\n[04:53.81] Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.04] [Joe Budden:]\n[04:56.67] They say he a bastard for real\n[04:59.36] Then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.07] So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n[05:01.81] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:05.14] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.02] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.37] I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n[05:13.41] Endless, move more then 2 inches\n[05:15.55] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:18.58] So end this, or see me manana\n[05:20.83] Or see the speed of a llama\n[05:22.69] Underground prima donna\n[05:23.35] That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n[05:24.16] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:25.61] I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.58] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.17] My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n[05:35.89] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.41] Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n[05:40.80] When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.02] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.09] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.86] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.32] Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n[05:54.33] Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n[05:56.55] Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n[05:58.80] So ya'll could bump swag like us\n[06:01.61] But the next time rap's discussed\n[06:03.84] Add this as a plus\n[06:04.90] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.74] And would get up in that ass\n[06:08.22] But the fags might bust\n[06:09.67] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.81] I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n[06:14.33] Chicks removing they drawls\n[06:17.02] Now your crew is in awe\n[06:19.73] How you ball?\n[06:20.51] Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:21.04] You gon' need another processor,\n[06:22.58] To process it, I'll set it\n[06:23.20] I said it!\n[06:23.98] So keep running around hot headed\n[06:26.48] Till you get hot leaded\n[06:27.95] Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:29.94] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.59] Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n[06:35.24] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n[06:38.31] With Joe spell, NO L!\n[06:41.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, KXNG Crooked & Royce da 5′9″\n artist: Joe Budden\n album: Halfway House\n duration_ms: 422000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n start_ms: 9310\n end_ms: 10250\n- text: '[Joell Ortiz:]'\n start_ms: 10250\n end_ms: 10880\n- text: I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n start_ms: 10880\n end_ms: 11530\n- text: Hip hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 11530\n end_ms: 12760\n- text: But I'll be fine brother\n start_ms: 12760\n end_ms: 13550\n- text: My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n start_ms: 13550\n end_ms: 14890\n- text: Listen, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 14890\n end_ms: 16320\n- text: You throw a shot at me\n start_ms: 16320\n end_ms: 17560\n- text: I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 17560\n end_ms: 18770\n- text: Your's is on a joint\n start_ms: 18770\n end_ms: 19950\n- text: Mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 19950\n end_ms: 21360\n- text: Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21360\n end_ms: 23500\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23500\n end_ms: 25970\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n start_ms: 25970\n end_ms: 28030\n- text: They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n start_ms: 28030\n end_ms: 29800\n- text: Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n start_ms: 29800\n end_ms: 31770\n- text: Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n start_ms: 31770\n end_ms: 34250\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n start_ms: 34250\n end_ms: 36720\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n start_ms: 36720\n end_ms: 38900\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n start_ms: 38900\n end_ms: 41650\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n start_ms: 41650\n end_ms: 44410\n- text: The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n start_ms: 44410\n end_ms: 47170\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47170\n end_ms: 49510\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49510\n end_ms: 51960\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 51960\n end_ms: 54680\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 54680\n end_ms: 57090\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57090\n end_ms: 59370\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 59370\n end_ms: 62300\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62300\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 67110\n- text: '[Nino Bless:]'\n start_ms: 67110\n end_ms: 67710\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n start_ms: 67710\n end_ms: 70280\n- text: That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70280\n end_ms: 72300\n- text: You bird's is food\n start_ms: 72300\n end_ms: 74050\n- text: I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n start_ms: 74050\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 79450\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 79450\n end_ms: 82950\n- text: I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n start_ms: 82950\n end_ms: 85080\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85080\n end_ms: 87920\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87920\n end_ms: 90520\n- text: Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90520\n end_ms: 93330\n- text: Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n start_ms: 93330\n end_ms: 97180\n- text: Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n start_ms: 97180\n end_ms: 99530\n- text: Shit, been through it all\n start_ms: 99530\n end_ms: 101500\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101500\n end_ms: 103620\n- text: I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103620\n end_ms: 106530\n- text: Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n start_ms: 106530\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 110170\n- text: Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110170\n end_ms: 112250\n- text: Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n start_ms: 112250\n end_ms: 114990\n- text: Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 114990\n end_ms: 117330\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117330\n end_ms: 119470\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n start_ms: 119470\n end_ms: 121560\n- text: When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n start_ms: 121560\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 125230\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125230\n end_ms: 127450\n- text: When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n start_ms: 127450\n end_ms: 130150\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130150\n end_ms: 133300\n- text: I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133300\n end_ms: 135660\n- text: What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n start_ms: 135660\n end_ms: 138270\n- text: You was a willy\n start_ms: 138270\n end_ms: 139410\n- text: Now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 139410\n end_ms: 140880\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense\n start_ms: 140880\n end_ms: 142450\n- text: I really pop shit\n start_ms: 142450\n end_ms: 143810\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143810\n end_ms: 145630\n- text: I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n start_ms: 145630\n end_ms: 148410\n- text: On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n start_ms: 148410\n end_ms: 150770\n- text: '[Crooked I:]'\n start_ms: 150770\n end_ms: 151590\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n start_ms: 151590\n end_ms: 153190\n- text: I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 153190\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 157820\n- text: Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n start_ms: 157820\n end_ms: 160730\n- text: Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160730\n end_ms: 163080\n- text: Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n start_ms: 163080\n end_ms: 165450\n- text: Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n start_ms: 165450\n end_ms: 168840\n- text: The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 168840\n end_ms: 171500\n- text: You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n start_ms: 171500\n end_ms: 174090\n- text: I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n start_ms: 174090\n end_ms: 175920\n- text: In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n start_ms: 175920\n end_ms: 181180\n- text: From Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 181180\n end_ms: 182250\n- text: I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n start_ms: 182250\n end_ms: 183020\n- text: I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 183020\n end_ms: 184510\n- text: Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n start_ms: 184510\n end_ms: 186920\n- text: Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n start_ms: 186920\n end_ms: 189790\n- text: Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 189790\n end_ms: 194070\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 194070\n end_ms: 194750\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 194750\n end_ms: 196940\n- text: Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 196940\n end_ms: 199010\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199010\n end_ms: 201150\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 201150\n end_ms: 203000\n- text: I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 203000\n end_ms: 205280\n- text: Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n start_ms: 205280\n end_ms: 207460\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n start_ms: 207460\n end_ms: 210680\n- text: Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 210680\n end_ms: 212840\n- text: '[Royce Da 59:]'\n start_ms: 212840\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: I hope niggas know\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214820\n- text: I'll show up to ya show\n start_ms: 214820\n end_ms: 215950\n- text: I'll show up where you go\n start_ms: 215950\n end_ms: 216860\n- text: Show up to ya door\n start_ms: 216860\n end_ms: 217910\n- text: 4's will explode shells\n start_ms: 217910\n end_ms: 219250\n- text: For they hit the flo'\n start_ms: 219250\n end_ms: 220250\n- text: I know niggas know\n start_ms: 220250\n end_ms: 221130\n- text: I got an open window flow\n start_ms: 221130\n end_ms: 222580\n- text: I air shit out\n start_ms: 222580\n end_ms: 223840\n- text: In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223840\n end_ms: 226090\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226090\n end_ms: 227820\n- text: Guess why?\n start_ms: 227820\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 231280\n- text: Cause when it come to them words\n start_ms: 231280\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: You know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 234430\n- text: I write rhymes like white lines\n start_ms: 234430\n end_ms: 236430\n- text: On the nose tray\n start_ms: 236430\n end_ms: 237780\n- text: Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237780\n end_ms: 239550\n- text: Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 239550\n end_ms: 242350\n- text: Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242350\n end_ms: 245570\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 245570\n end_ms: 247920\n- text: Hammers stay hummin'\n start_ms: 247920\n end_ms: 248810\n- text: Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n start_ms: 248810\n end_ms: 250610\n- text: Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n start_ms: 250610\n end_ms: 252540\n- text: More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252540\n end_ms: 255160\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 255160\n end_ms: 258220\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258220\n end_ms: 260820\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n start_ms: 260820\n end_ms: 263430\n- text: If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263430\n end_ms: 265820\n- text: Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265820\n end_ms: 267870\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n start_ms: 267870\n end_ms: 269620\n- text: I'm a living anal probe\n start_ms: 269620\n end_ms: 271240\n- text: I'm a lame-a-phobe\n start_ms: 271240\n end_ms: 272540\n- text: Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n start_ms: 272540\n end_ms: 274480\n- text: (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n start_ms: 274480\n end_ms: 276050\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n start_ms: 276050\n end_ms: 278390\n- text: Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278390\n end_ms: 280640\n- text: I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 280640\n end_ms: 283490\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283490\n end_ms: 286170\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 286170\n end_ms: 288880\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288880\n end_ms: 291780\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly\n start_ms: 291780\n end_ms: 293810\n- text: Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 293810\n end_ms: 296040\n- text: '[Joe Budden:]'\n start_ms: 296040\n end_ms: 296670\n- text: They say he a bastard for real\n start_ms: 296670\n end_ms: 299360\n- text: Then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 299360\n end_ms: 300070\n- text: So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300070\n end_ms: 301810\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301810\n end_ms: 305140\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 305140\n end_ms: 307020\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307020\n end_ms: 309370\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n start_ms: 309370\n end_ms: 313410\n- text: Endless, move more then 2 inches\n start_ms: 313410\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315550\n end_ms: 318580\n- text: So end this, or see me manana\n start_ms: 318580\n end_ms: 320830\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama\n start_ms: 320830\n end_ms: 322690\n- text: Underground prima donna\n start_ms: 322690\n end_ms: 323350\n- text: That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n start_ms: 323350\n end_ms: 324160\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 324160\n end_ms: 325610\n- text: I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 325610\n end_ms: 330580\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330580\n end_ms: 333170\n- text: My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n start_ms: 333170\n end_ms: 335890\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 335890\n end_ms: 338410\n- text: Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n start_ms: 338410\n end_ms: 340800\n- text: When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340800\n end_ms: 343020\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343020\n end_ms: 346090\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346090\n end_ms: 348860\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348860\n end_ms: 351320\n- text: Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n start_ms: 351320\n end_ms: 354330\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n start_ms: 354330\n end_ms: 356550\n- text: Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n start_ms: 356550\n end_ms: 358800\n- text: So ya'll could bump swag like us\n start_ms: 358800\n end_ms: 361610\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed\n start_ms: 361610\n end_ms: 363840\n- text: Add this as a plus\n start_ms: 363840\n end_ms: 364900\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364900\n end_ms: 366740\n- text: And would get up in that ass\n start_ms: 366740\n end_ms: 368220\n- text: But the fags might bust\n start_ms: 368220\n end_ms: 369670\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369670\n end_ms: 371810\n- text: I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n start_ms: 371810\n end_ms: 374330\n- text: Chicks removing they drawls\n start_ms: 374330\n end_ms: 377020\n- text: Now your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 377020\n end_ms: 379730\n- text: How you ball?\n start_ms: 379730\n end_ms: 380510\n- text: Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 380510\n end_ms: 381040\n- text: You gon' need another processor,\n start_ms: 381040\n end_ms: 382580\n- text: To process it, I'll set it\n start_ms: 382580\n end_ms: 383200\n- text: I said it!\n start_ms: 383200\n end_ms: 383980\n- text: So keep running around hot headed\n start_ms: 383980\n end_ms: 386480\n- text: Till you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 386480\n end_ms: 387950\n- text: Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387950\n end_ms: 389940\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 389940\n end_ms: 392590\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n start_ms: 392590\n end_ms: 395240\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n start_ms: 395240\n end_ms: 398310\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L!\n start_ms: 398310\n end_ms: 401090\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 401090\nplain: |-\n (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n [Joell Ortiz:]\n I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n Hip hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother\n My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n Listen, that's word to my mother\n You throw a shot at me\n I'm throwing a shot back\n Your's is on a joint\n Mine's whistling by your top hat\n Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n [Nino Bless:]\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n You bird's is food\n I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n Shit, been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n Like sick cracker shit\n Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n Don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n You was a willy\n Now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense\n I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n [Crooked I:]\n I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n From Switzerland to New York\n I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n [Royce Da 59:]\n I hope niggas know\n I'll show up to ya show\n I'll show up where you go\n Show up to ya door\n 4's will explode shells\n For they hit the flo'\n I know niggas know\n I got an open window flow\n I air shit out\n In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why?\n Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n Cause when it come to them words\n You know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like white lines\n On the nose tray\n Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay hummin'\n Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n I'm a living anal probe\n I'm a lame-a-phobe\n Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly\n Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n [Joe Budden:]\n They say he a bastard for real\n Then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n Endless, move more then 2 inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this, or see me manana\n Or see the speed of a llama\n Underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n So ya'll could bump swag like us\n But the next time rap's discussed\n Add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass\n But the fags might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n Chicks removing they drawls\n Now your crew is in awe\n How you ball?\n Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor,\n To process it, I'll set it\n I said it!\n So keep running around hot headed\n Till you get hot leaded\n Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L!\n"},{"id":33846206,"name":"We Outta Here","trackName":"We Outta Here","artistName":"Joe Budden;Slaughterhouse","albumName":"Escape Route","duration":285.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You left shoulder! (HUT!)\nYou right shoulder! (HUT!)\nYou left shoulder! (HUT!)\nYou right shoulder! (HUT!)\nSlaughter\n\nPapa pop a pistol, stuck his dick in mama missile\nWe created Mr. Got to get ya if the opposite\nJust quit ya, niggas bitches, cranberry like a Baca mixer\nWhip a bitches nigga's black ass like a cotton picker\nBomb through debris, I'm holding two pistols\nIn the form of a cross, yeah I am armed to the T\nI put on for my city, I take off for whoever\nThink I'm soft from my job of rapping, go back to clapping\nBack to illin', back to dealin', back to cocaina\nUp the nose, that's the feeling, sky the limit, that's the ceiling\nAnd the women is the whores, putting numbers up for sale\nJust to score into hell, it's the feel (HUT!)\n\nI can make noise when the gat blows!\nThe Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blow!\nIt's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\nWe outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\nIt's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\nWe outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\n\nI live my life like I'm led by, possessed by evil\nAll about bread and measles, regular people\nLooking like Bret the Eagles with the dancin' evil\nCordially they forcing me to act accordingly\nWhen according to me my thoughts disorderly\nJust like they ought to be, it's more to me and the core to me\nIt's madness and smoke and a mirror\nIt's image, perceptions, and the forgery\nEverything is a fraud to me, so until the boys wake up\nMe and my boys make up, we with the toy sprayers\nAim at noisemakers at the noise-makers\nWhose group ever group with whoever who do it better\nBets place on it, number one got our face on it\nAnd I make a case on it, treason\nEvery twelve months it's hunting season\nIt's called Slaughterhouse for a reason\n\nI can make noise when the gat blows!\nThe Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blow!\nIt's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\nWe outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\nIt's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\nWe outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\n\nPiano face Audemar, you haters know the time\nDrug abusing fourth grader, I mean a loaded nine\nIs in the stash, Ferrari Spider, the road is mine\nLike lap dances and bad breaks, I'm on the grind\nSo tell Officer Crawford that this is Slaughterhouse\nAnd I left the next black president in his daughter's mouth\nSwallow my kids then I'm like \"Yo I gotta bounce\"\nBen Franklin's a math genius in every dollar count\nWe taking over the game, gon' X you little wussies\nCause that's the sweetest joy next to getting pussy\nSomething better's emerging\nSlaughter's blowing up like a suicide\nBomber promised seventy virgins, nigga!\n\nI can make noise when the gat blows!\nThe Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blow!\nIt's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\nWe outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\nIt's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\nWe outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\n\n(Ortiz!) One quarter Slaughter reporting to you live\nFrom a corner where reporters stop by\n'Cause I'm probably laying pot pie, shots fly out a Glock nine\nSo you're cooked like a pot pie, take a look at everybody in my crew\nBet you can't find a member of the Squad that is not fly\nAnybody say they can see us, they either lying or not\nWearing their glasses or bad as cock-eyed\nWe don't shit, we ca-ca, we don't spit, we emit lava\nGot a grip on these hip-hoppers like a big lobster\nEverybody know the deal when they hear the kid\nYah-wah, goo-goo, ga-ga\nBabies crying 'bout the internet, can't get on the site\nBut they show me and Jodeci of a night\nTaking flights and lighting up a cigarette\nMotherfucker we ill, not one insect step short of the best thing\nEverything we touch make their head swing and\nY'all ain't really interesting\nThrow a shot and our fans do the interceptions\nYou got the crowd fooled but I ain't really interested\n\nI can make noise when the gat blows!\nThe Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blow!\nIt's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\nWe outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\nIt's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\nWe outta here! We outta here! We outta here!","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: We Outta Here\n artist: Joe Budden;Slaughterhouse\n album: Escape Route\n duration_ms: 285000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n You left shoulder! (HUT!)\n You right shoulder! (HUT!)\n You left shoulder! (HUT!)\n You right shoulder! (HUT!)\n Slaughter\n\n Papa pop a pistol, stuck his dick in mama missile\n We created Mr. Got to get ya if the opposite\n Just quit ya, niggas bitches, cranberry like a Baca mixer\n Whip a bitches nigga's black ass like a cotton picker\n Bomb through debris, I'm holding two pistols\n In the form of a cross, yeah I am armed to the T\n I put on for my city, I take off for whoever\n Think I'm soft from my job of rapping, go back to clapping\n Back to illin', back to dealin', back to cocaina\n Up the nose, that's the feeling, sky the limit, that's the ceiling\n And the women is the whores, putting numbers up for sale\n Just to score into hell, it's the feel (HUT!)\n\n I can make noise when the gat blows!\n The Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blow!\n It's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\n We outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\n It's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\n We outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\n\n I live my life like I'm led by, possessed by evil\n All about bread and measles, regular people\n Looking like Bret the Eagles with the dancin' evil\n Cordially they forcing me to act accordingly\n When according to me my thoughts disorderly\n Just like they ought to be, it's more to me and the core to me\n It's madness and smoke and a mirror\n It's image, perceptions, and the forgery\n Everything is a fraud to me, so until the boys wake up\n Me and my boys make up, we with the toy sprayers\n Aim at noisemakers at the noise-makers\n Whose group ever group with whoever who do it better\n Bets place on it, number one got our face on it\n And I make a case on it, treason\n Every twelve months it's hunting season\n It's called Slaughterhouse for a reason\n\n I can make noise when the gat blows!\n The Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blow!\n It's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\n We outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\n It's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\n We outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\n\n Piano face Audemar, you haters know the time\n Drug abusing fourth grader, I mean a loaded nine\n Is in the stash, Ferrari Spider, the road is mine\n Like lap dances and bad breaks, I'm on the grind\n So tell Officer Crawford that this is Slaughterhouse\n And I left the next black president in his daughter's mouth\n Swallow my kids then I'm like \"Yo I gotta bounce\"\n Ben Franklin's a math genius in every dollar count\n We taking over the game, gon' X you little wussies\n Cause that's the sweetest joy next to getting pussy\n Something better's emerging\n Slaughter's blowing up like a suicide\n Bomber promised seventy virgins, nigga!\n\n I can make noise when the gat blows!\n The Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blow!\n It's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\n We outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\n It's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\n We outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\n\n (Ortiz!) One quarter Slaughter reporting to you live\n From a corner where reporters stop by\n 'Cause I'm probably laying pot pie, shots fly out a Glock nine\n So you're cooked like a pot pie, take a look at everybody in my crew\n Bet you can't find a member of the Squad that is not fly\n Anybody say they can see us, they either lying or not\n Wearing their glasses or bad as cock-eyed\n We don't shit, we ca-ca, we don't spit, we emit lava\n Got a grip on these hip-hoppers like a big lobster\n Everybody know the deal when they hear the kid\n Yah-wah, goo-goo, ga-ga\n Babies crying 'bout the internet, can't get on the site\n But they show me and Jodeci of a night\n Taking flights and lighting up a cigarette\n Motherfucker we ill, not one insect step short of the best thing\n Everything we touch make their head swing and\n Y'all ain't really interesting\n Throw a shot and our fans do the interceptions\n You got the crowd fooled but I ain't really interested\n\n I can make noise when the gat blows!\n The Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blow!\n It's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\n We outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\n It's a motherfucking slaughterhouse!\n We outta here! We outta here! We outta here!\n"},{"id":8312245,"name":"Slaughterhouse","trackName":"Slaughterhouse","artistName":"Joe Budden feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I & Royce da 5'9\"","albumName":"Halfway House","duration":422.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n[Joell Ortiz:]\nI define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\nHip hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother\nMy mind hovers above all you jive suckers\nListen, that's word to my mother\nYou throw a shot at me\nI'm throwing a shot back\nYour's is on a joint\nMine's whistling by your top hat\nYa I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\nThey fifth is lyin in they second drawer\nNext door to some bullshit they ironed\nYa'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\nThe pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n[Nino Bless:]\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\nThat term's done fucka, what up whatever\nYou bird's is food\nI'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\nPlus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar, you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDroppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\nSwear on my pops, no fear in my heart\nShit, been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\nLike sick cracker shit\nGet back dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\nDog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white\nWhen I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\nDon't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\nYou was a willy\nNow you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense\nI really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolvin, but grown bitter\nOn your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n[Crooked I:]\nI don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\nI breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\nUnless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\nForever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\nOnly when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\nThe dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\nIn my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\nFrom Switzerland to New York\nI was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\nI'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\nSicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\nDay old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\nTryin to keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI'll send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n[Royce Da 59:]\nI hope niggas know\nI'll show up to ya show\nI'll show up where you go\nShow up to ya door\n4's will explode shells\nFor they hit the flo'\nI know niggas know\nI got an open window flow\nI air shit out\nIn the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why?\nShiiiiiiiiiieeett\nCause when it come to them words\nYou know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like white lines\nOn the nose tray\nIce cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRiding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay hummin'\nLike strummin' the mandolin or violin\nSpeaking of, I done played into the violence\nMore then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\nIf I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTill it ain't no more, ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed\nI'm a living anal probe\nI'm a lame-a-phobe\nMatter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n(WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\nNow I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly\nGoin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n[Joe Budden:]\nThey say he a bastard for real\nThen they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\nEndless, move more then 2 inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this, or see me manana\nOr see the speed of a llama\nUnderground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\nWhen it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a box, wait\nZipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\nSo ya'll could bump swag like us\nBut the next time rap's discussed\nAdd this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass\nBut the fags might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\nChicks removing they drawls\nNow your crew is in awe\nHow you ball?\nYour jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor,\nTo process it, I'll set it\nI said it!\nSo keep running around hot headed\nTill you get hot leaded\nTill everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L!","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.31] (Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n[00:10.25] [Joell Ortiz:]\n[00:10.88] I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n[00:11.53] Hip hop got my spine smothered\n[00:12.76] But I'll be fine brother\n[00:13.55] My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n[00:14.89] Listen, that's word to my mother\n[00:16.32] You throw a shot at me\n[00:17.56] I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.77] Your's is on a joint\n[00:19.95] Mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.36] Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.50] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:25.97] I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n[00:28.03] They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n[00:29.80] Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n[00:31.77] Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n[00:34.25] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n[00:36.72] I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n[00:38.90] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n[00:41.65] Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n[00:44.41] The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n[00:47.17] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.51] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:51.96] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:54.68] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.09] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[00:59.37] I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.30] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.63] You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n[01:07.11] [Nino Bless:]\n[01:07.71] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n[01:10.28] That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n[01:12.30] You bird's is food\n[01:14.05] I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n[01:16.25] Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n[01:19.45] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:22.95] I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n[01:25.08] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.92] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.52] Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n[01:33.33] Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n[01:37.18] Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n[01:39.53] Shit, been through it all\n[01:41.50] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.62] I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.53] Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n[01:49.58] Like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.17] Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.25] Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n[01:54.99] Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.33] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.47] You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n[02:01.56] When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n[02:03.75] Don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.23] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.45] When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n[02:10.15] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.30] I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:15.66] What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n[02:18.27] You was a willy\n[02:19.41] Now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.88] I ain't with that silly nonsense\n[02:22.45] I really pop shit\n[02:23.81] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:25.63] I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n[02:28.41] On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n[02:30.77] [Crooked I:]\n[02:31.59] I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n[02:33.19] I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.50] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n[02:37.82] Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n[02:40.73] Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.08] Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n[02:45.45] Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n[02:48.84] The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n[02:51.50] You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n[02:54.09] I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n[02:55.92] In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n[03:01.18] From Switzerland to New York\n[03:02.25] I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n[03:03.02] I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.51] Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n[03:06.92] Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n[03:09.79] Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:14.07] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:14.75] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:16.94] Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.01] The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n[03:21.15] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:23.00] I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.28] Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n[03:27.46] It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n[03:30.68] Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:32.84] [Royce Da 59:]\n[03:33.48] I hope niggas know\n[03:34.82] I'll show up to ya show\n[03:35.95] I'll show up where you go\n[03:36.86] Show up to ya door\n[03:37.91] 4's will explode shells\n[03:39.25] For they hit the flo'\n[03:40.25] I know niggas know\n[03:41.13] I got an open window flow\n[03:42.58] I air shit out\n[03:43.84] In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.09] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.82] Guess why?\n[03:49.44] Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n[03:51.28] Cause when it come to them words\n[03:52.55] You know I wear shit out\n[03:54.43] I write rhymes like white lines\n[03:56.43] On the nose tray\n[03:57.78] Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[03:59.55] Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.35] Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:05.57] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.92] Hammers stay hummin'\n[04:08.81] Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n[04:10.61] Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n[04:12.54] More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:15.16] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.22] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:20.82] Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n[04:23.43] If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.82] Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n[04:27.87] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n[04:29.62] I'm a living anal probe\n[04:31.24] I'm a lame-a-phobe\n[04:32.54] Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n[04:34.48] (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n[04:36.05] When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n[04:38.39] Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:40.64] I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.49] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:46.17] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.88] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.78] I'm like Marty McFly\n[04:53.81] Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.04] [Joe Budden:]\n[04:56.67] They say he a bastard for real\n[04:59.36] Then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.07] So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n[05:01.81] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:05.14] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.02] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.37] I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n[05:13.41] Endless, move more then 2 inches\n[05:15.55] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:18.58] So end this, or see me manana\n[05:20.83] Or see the speed of a llama\n[05:22.69] Underground prima donna\n[05:23.35] That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n[05:24.16] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:25.61] I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.58] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.17] My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n[05:35.89] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.41] Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n[05:40.80] When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.02] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.09] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.86] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.32] Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n[05:54.33] Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n[05:56.55] Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n[05:58.80] So ya'll could bump swag like us\n[06:01.61] But the next time rap's discussed\n[06:03.84] Add this as a plus\n[06:04.90] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.74] And would get up in that ass\n[06:08.22] But the fags might bust\n[06:09.67] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.81] I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n[06:14.33] Chicks removing they drawls\n[06:17.02] Now your crew is in awe\n[06:19.73] How you ball?\n[06:20.51] Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:21.04] You gon' need another processor,\n[06:22.58] To process it, I'll set it\n[06:23.20] I said it!\n[06:23.98] So keep running around hot headed\n[06:26.48] Till you get hot leaded\n[06:27.95] Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:29.94] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.59] Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n[06:35.24] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n[06:38.31] With Joe spell, NO L!\n[06:41.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse\n artist: Joe Budden feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I & Royce da 5'9\"\n album: Halfway House\n duration_ms: 422000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n start_ms: 9310\n end_ms: 10250\n- text: '[Joell Ortiz:]'\n start_ms: 10250\n end_ms: 10880\n- text: I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n start_ms: 10880\n end_ms: 11530\n- text: Hip hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 11530\n end_ms: 12760\n- text: But I'll be fine brother\n start_ms: 12760\n end_ms: 13550\n- text: My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n start_ms: 13550\n end_ms: 14890\n- text: Listen, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 14890\n end_ms: 16320\n- text: You throw a shot at me\n start_ms: 16320\n end_ms: 17560\n- text: I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 17560\n end_ms: 18770\n- text: Your's is on a joint\n start_ms: 18770\n end_ms: 19950\n- text: Mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 19950\n end_ms: 21360\n- text: Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21360\n end_ms: 23500\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23500\n end_ms: 25970\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n start_ms: 25970\n end_ms: 28030\n- text: They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n start_ms: 28030\n end_ms: 29800\n- text: Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n start_ms: 29800\n end_ms: 31770\n- text: Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n start_ms: 31770\n end_ms: 34250\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n start_ms: 34250\n end_ms: 36720\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n start_ms: 36720\n end_ms: 38900\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n start_ms: 38900\n end_ms: 41650\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n start_ms: 41650\n end_ms: 44410\n- text: The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n start_ms: 44410\n end_ms: 47170\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47170\n end_ms: 49510\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49510\n end_ms: 51960\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 51960\n end_ms: 54680\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 54680\n end_ms: 57090\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57090\n end_ms: 59370\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 59370\n end_ms: 62300\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62300\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 67110\n- text: '[Nino Bless:]'\n start_ms: 67110\n end_ms: 67710\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n start_ms: 67710\n end_ms: 70280\n- text: That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70280\n end_ms: 72300\n- text: You bird's is food\n start_ms: 72300\n end_ms: 74050\n- text: I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n start_ms: 74050\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 79450\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 79450\n end_ms: 82950\n- text: I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n start_ms: 82950\n end_ms: 85080\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85080\n end_ms: 87920\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87920\n end_ms: 90520\n- text: Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90520\n end_ms: 93330\n- text: Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n start_ms: 93330\n end_ms: 97180\n- text: Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n start_ms: 97180\n end_ms: 99530\n- text: Shit, been through it all\n start_ms: 99530\n end_ms: 101500\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101500\n end_ms: 103620\n- text: I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103620\n end_ms: 106530\n- text: Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n start_ms: 106530\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 110170\n- text: Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110170\n end_ms: 112250\n- text: Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n start_ms: 112250\n end_ms: 114990\n- text: Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 114990\n end_ms: 117330\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117330\n end_ms: 119470\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n start_ms: 119470\n end_ms: 121560\n- text: When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n start_ms: 121560\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 125230\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125230\n end_ms: 127450\n- text: When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n start_ms: 127450\n end_ms: 130150\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130150\n end_ms: 133300\n- text: I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133300\n end_ms: 135660\n- text: What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n start_ms: 135660\n end_ms: 138270\n- text: You was a willy\n start_ms: 138270\n end_ms: 139410\n- text: Now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 139410\n end_ms: 140880\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense\n start_ms: 140880\n end_ms: 142450\n- text: I really pop shit\n start_ms: 142450\n end_ms: 143810\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143810\n end_ms: 145630\n- text: I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n start_ms: 145630\n end_ms: 148410\n- text: On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n start_ms: 148410\n end_ms: 150770\n- text: '[Crooked I:]'\n start_ms: 150770\n end_ms: 151590\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n start_ms: 151590\n end_ms: 153190\n- text: I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 153190\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 157820\n- text: Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n start_ms: 157820\n end_ms: 160730\n- text: Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160730\n end_ms: 163080\n- text: Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n start_ms: 163080\n end_ms: 165450\n- text: Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n start_ms: 165450\n end_ms: 168840\n- text: The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 168840\n end_ms: 171500\n- text: You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n start_ms: 171500\n end_ms: 174090\n- text: I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n start_ms: 174090\n end_ms: 175920\n- text: In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n start_ms: 175920\n end_ms: 181180\n- text: From Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 181180\n end_ms: 182250\n- text: I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n start_ms: 182250\n end_ms: 183020\n- text: I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 183020\n end_ms: 184510\n- text: Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n start_ms: 184510\n end_ms: 186920\n- text: Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n start_ms: 186920\n end_ms: 189790\n- text: Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 189790\n end_ms: 194070\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 194070\n end_ms: 194750\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 194750\n end_ms: 196940\n- text: Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 196940\n end_ms: 199010\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199010\n end_ms: 201150\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 201150\n end_ms: 203000\n- text: I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 203000\n end_ms: 205280\n- text: Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n start_ms: 205280\n end_ms: 207460\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n start_ms: 207460\n end_ms: 210680\n- text: Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 210680\n end_ms: 212840\n- text: '[Royce Da 59:]'\n start_ms: 212840\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: I hope niggas know\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214820\n- text: I'll show up to ya show\n start_ms: 214820\n end_ms: 215950\n- text: I'll show up where you go\n start_ms: 215950\n end_ms: 216860\n- text: Show up to ya door\n start_ms: 216860\n end_ms: 217910\n- text: 4's will explode shells\n start_ms: 217910\n end_ms: 219250\n- text: For they hit the flo'\n start_ms: 219250\n end_ms: 220250\n- text: I know niggas know\n start_ms: 220250\n end_ms: 221130\n- text: I got an open window flow\n start_ms: 221130\n end_ms: 222580\n- text: I air shit out\n start_ms: 222580\n end_ms: 223840\n- text: In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223840\n end_ms: 226090\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226090\n end_ms: 227820\n- text: Guess why?\n start_ms: 227820\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 231280\n- text: Cause when it come to them words\n start_ms: 231280\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: You know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 234430\n- text: I write rhymes like white lines\n start_ms: 234430\n end_ms: 236430\n- text: On the nose tray\n start_ms: 236430\n end_ms: 237780\n- text: Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237780\n end_ms: 239550\n- text: Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 239550\n end_ms: 242350\n- text: Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242350\n end_ms: 245570\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 245570\n end_ms: 247920\n- text: Hammers stay hummin'\n start_ms: 247920\n end_ms: 248810\n- text: Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n start_ms: 248810\n end_ms: 250610\n- text: Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n start_ms: 250610\n end_ms: 252540\n- text: More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252540\n end_ms: 255160\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 255160\n end_ms: 258220\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258220\n end_ms: 260820\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n start_ms: 260820\n end_ms: 263430\n- text: If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263430\n end_ms: 265820\n- text: Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265820\n end_ms: 267870\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n start_ms: 267870\n end_ms: 269620\n- text: I'm a living anal probe\n start_ms: 269620\n end_ms: 271240\n- text: I'm a lame-a-phobe\n start_ms: 271240\n end_ms: 272540\n- text: Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n start_ms: 272540\n end_ms: 274480\n- text: (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n start_ms: 274480\n end_ms: 276050\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n start_ms: 276050\n end_ms: 278390\n- text: Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278390\n end_ms: 280640\n- text: I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 280640\n end_ms: 283490\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283490\n end_ms: 286170\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 286170\n end_ms: 288880\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288880\n end_ms: 291780\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly\n start_ms: 291780\n end_ms: 293810\n- text: Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 293810\n end_ms: 296040\n- text: '[Joe Budden:]'\n start_ms: 296040\n end_ms: 296670\n- text: They say he a bastard for real\n start_ms: 296670\n end_ms: 299360\n- text: Then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 299360\n end_ms: 300070\n- text: So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300070\n end_ms: 301810\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301810\n end_ms: 305140\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 305140\n end_ms: 307020\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307020\n end_ms: 309370\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n start_ms: 309370\n end_ms: 313410\n- text: Endless, move more then 2 inches\n start_ms: 313410\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315550\n end_ms: 318580\n- text: So end this, or see me manana\n start_ms: 318580\n end_ms: 320830\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama\n start_ms: 320830\n end_ms: 322690\n- text: Underground prima donna\n start_ms: 322690\n end_ms: 323350\n- text: That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n start_ms: 323350\n end_ms: 324160\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 324160\n end_ms: 325610\n- text: I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 325610\n end_ms: 330580\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330580\n end_ms: 333170\n- text: My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n start_ms: 333170\n end_ms: 335890\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 335890\n end_ms: 338410\n- text: Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n start_ms: 338410\n end_ms: 340800\n- text: When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340800\n end_ms: 343020\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343020\n end_ms: 346090\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346090\n end_ms: 348860\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348860\n end_ms: 351320\n- text: Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n start_ms: 351320\n end_ms: 354330\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n start_ms: 354330\n end_ms: 356550\n- text: Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n start_ms: 356550\n end_ms: 358800\n- text: So ya'll could bump swag like us\n start_ms: 358800\n end_ms: 361610\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed\n start_ms: 361610\n end_ms: 363840\n- text: Add this as a plus\n start_ms: 363840\n end_ms: 364900\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364900\n end_ms: 366740\n- text: And would get up in that ass\n start_ms: 366740\n end_ms: 368220\n- text: But the fags might bust\n start_ms: 368220\n end_ms: 369670\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369670\n end_ms: 371810\n- text: I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n start_ms: 371810\n end_ms: 374330\n- text: Chicks removing they drawls\n start_ms: 374330\n end_ms: 377020\n- text: Now your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 377020\n end_ms: 379730\n- text: How you ball?\n start_ms: 379730\n end_ms: 380510\n- text: Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 380510\n end_ms: 381040\n- text: You gon' need another processor,\n start_ms: 381040\n end_ms: 382580\n- text: To process it, I'll set it\n start_ms: 382580\n end_ms: 383200\n- text: I said it!\n start_ms: 383200\n end_ms: 383980\n- text: So keep running around hot headed\n start_ms: 383980\n end_ms: 386480\n- text: Till you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 386480\n end_ms: 387950\n- text: Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387950\n end_ms: 389940\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 389940\n end_ms: 392590\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n start_ms: 392590\n end_ms: 395240\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n start_ms: 395240\n end_ms: 398310\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L!\n start_ms: 398310\n end_ms: 401090\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 401090\nplain: |-\n (Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n [Joell Ortiz:]\n I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n Hip hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother\n My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n Listen, that's word to my mother\n You throw a shot at me\n I'm throwing a shot back\n Your's is on a joint\n Mine's whistling by your top hat\n Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n [Nino Bless:]\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n You bird's is food\n I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n Shit, been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n Like sick cracker shit\n Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n Don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n You was a willy\n Now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense\n I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n [Crooked I:]\n I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n From Switzerland to New York\n I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n [Royce Da 59:]\n I hope niggas know\n I'll show up to ya show\n I'll show up where you go\n Show up to ya door\n 4's will explode shells\n For they hit the flo'\n I know niggas know\n I got an open window flow\n I air shit out\n In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why?\n Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n Cause when it come to them words\n You know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like white lines\n On the nose tray\n Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay hummin'\n Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n I'm a living anal probe\n I'm a lame-a-phobe\n Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly\n Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n [Joe Budden:]\n They say he a bastard for real\n Then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n Endless, move more then 2 inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this, or see me manana\n Or see the speed of a llama\n Underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n So ya'll could bump swag like us\n But the next time rap's discussed\n Add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass\n But the fags might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n Chicks removing they drawls\n Now your crew is in awe\n How you ball?\n Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor,\n To process it, I'll set it\n I said it!\n So keep running around hot headed\n Till you get hot leaded\n Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L!\n"},{"id":10577786,"name":"Slaughterhouse","trackName":"Slaughterhouse","artistName":"Joe Budden feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I & Royce da 5′9″","albumName":"Halfway House","duration":422.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n[Joell Ortiz:]\nI define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\nHip hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother\nMy mind hovers above all you jive suckers\nListen, that's word to my mother\nYou throw a shot at me\nI'm throwing a shot back\nYour's is on a joint\nMine's whistling by your top hat\nYa I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\nThey fifth is lyin in they second drawer\nNext door to some bullshit they ironed\nYa'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\nThe pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n[Nino Bless:]\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\nThat term's done fucka, what up whatever\nYou bird's is food\nI'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\nPlus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar, you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDroppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\nSwear on my pops, no fear in my heart\nShit, been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\nLike sick cracker shit\nGet back dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\nDog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white\nWhen I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\nDon't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\nYou was a willy\nNow you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense\nI really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolvin, but grown bitter\nOn your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n[Crooked I:]\nI don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\nI breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\nUnless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\nForever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\nOnly when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\nThe dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\nIn my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\nFrom Switzerland to New York\nI was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\nI'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\nSicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\nDay old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\nTryin to keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI'll send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n[Royce Da 59:]\nI hope niggas know\nI'll show up to ya show\nI'll show up where you go\nShow up to ya door\n4's will explode shells\nFor they hit the flo'\nI know niggas know\nI got an open window flow\nI air shit out\nIn the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why?\nShiiiiiiiiiieeett\nCause when it come to them words\nYou know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like white lines\nOn the nose tray\nIce cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRiding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay hummin'\nLike strummin' the mandolin or violin\nSpeaking of, I done played into the violence\nMore then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\nIf I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTill it ain't no more, ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed\nI'm a living anal probe\nI'm a lame-a-phobe\nMatter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n(WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\nNow I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly\nGoin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n[Joe Budden:]\nThey say he a bastard for real\nThen they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\nEndless, move more then 2 inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this, or see me manana\nOr see the speed of a llama\nUnderground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\nWhen it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a box, wait\nZipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\nSo ya'll could bump swag like us\nBut the next time rap's discussed\nAdd this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass\nBut the fags might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\nChicks removing they drawls\nNow your crew is in awe\nHow you ball?\nYour jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor,\nTo process it, I'll set it\nI said it!\nSo keep running around hot headed\nTill you get hot leaded\nTill everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L!","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.31] (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n[00:10.25] [Joell Ortiz:]\n[00:10.88] I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n[00:11.53] Hip hop got my spine smothered\n[00:12.76] But I'll be fine brother\n[00:13.55] My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n[00:14.89] Listen, that's word to my mother\n[00:16.32] You throw a shot at me\n[00:17.56] I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.77] Your's is on a joint\n[00:19.95] Mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.36] Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.50] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:25.97] I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n[00:28.03] They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n[00:29.80] Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n[00:31.77] Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n[00:34.25] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n[00:36.72] I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n[00:38.90] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n[00:41.65] Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n[00:44.41] The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n[00:47.17] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.51] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:51.96] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:54.68] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.09] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[00:59.37] I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.30] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.63] You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n[01:07.11] [Nino Bless:]\n[01:07.71] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n[01:10.28] That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n[01:12.30] You bird's is food\n[01:14.05] I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n[01:16.25] Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n[01:19.45] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:22.95] I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n[01:25.08] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.92] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.52] Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n[01:33.33] Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n[01:37.18] Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n[01:39.53] Shit, been through it all\n[01:41.50] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.62] I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.53] Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n[01:49.58] Like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.17] Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.25] Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n[01:54.99] Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.33] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.47] You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n[02:01.56] When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n[02:03.75] Don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.23] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.45] When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n[02:10.15] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.30] I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:15.66] What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n[02:18.27] You was a willy\n[02:19.41] Now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.88] I ain't with that silly nonsense\n[02:22.45] I really pop shit\n[02:23.81] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:25.63] I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n[02:28.41] On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n[02:30.77] [Crooked I:]\n[02:31.59] I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n[02:33.19] I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.50] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n[02:37.82] Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n[02:40.73] Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.08] Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n[02:45.45] Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n[02:48.84] The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n[02:51.50] You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n[02:54.09] I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n[02:55.92] In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n[03:01.18] From Switzerland to New York\n[03:02.25] I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n[03:03.02] I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.51] Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n[03:06.92] Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n[03:09.79] Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:14.07] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:14.75] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:16.94] Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.01] The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n[03:21.15] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:23.00] I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.28] Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n[03:27.46] It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n[03:30.68] Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:32.84] [Royce Da 59:]\n[03:33.48] I hope niggas know\n[03:34.82] I'll show up to ya show\n[03:35.95] I'll show up where you go\n[03:36.86] Show up to ya door\n[03:37.91] 4's will explode shells\n[03:39.25] For they hit the flo'\n[03:40.25] I know niggas know\n[03:41.13] I got an open window flow\n[03:42.58] I air shit out\n[03:43.84] In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.09] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.82] Guess why?\n[03:49.44] Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n[03:51.28] Cause when it come to them words\n[03:52.55] You know I wear shit out\n[03:54.43] I write rhymes like white lines\n[03:56.43] On the nose tray\n[03:57.78] Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[03:59.55] Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.35] Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:05.57] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.92] Hammers stay hummin'\n[04:08.81] Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n[04:10.61] Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n[04:12.54] More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:15.16] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.22] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:20.82] Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n[04:23.43] If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.82] Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n[04:27.87] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n[04:29.62] I'm a living anal probe\n[04:31.24] I'm a lame-a-phobe\n[04:32.54] Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n[04:34.48] (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n[04:36.05] When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n[04:38.39] Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:40.64] I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.49] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:46.17] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.88] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.78] I'm like Marty McFly\n[04:53.81] Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.04] [Joe Budden:]\n[04:56.67] They say he a bastard for real\n[04:59.36] Then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.07] So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n[05:01.81] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:05.14] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.02] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.37] I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n[05:13.41] Endless, move more then 2 inches\n[05:15.55] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:18.58] So end this, or see me manana\n[05:20.83] Or see the speed of a llama\n[05:22.69] Underground prima donna\n[05:23.35] That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n[05:24.16] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:25.61] I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.58] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.17] My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n[05:35.89] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.41] Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n[05:40.80] When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.02] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.09] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.86] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.32] Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n[05:54.33] Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n[05:56.55] Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n[05:58.80] So ya'll could bump swag like us\n[06:01.61] But the next time rap's discussed\n[06:03.84] Add this as a plus\n[06:04.90] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.74] And would get up in that ass\n[06:08.22] But the fags might bust\n[06:09.67] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.81] I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n[06:14.33] Chicks removing they drawls\n[06:17.02] Now your crew is in awe\n[06:19.73] How you ball?\n[06:20.51] Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:21.04] You gon' need another processor,\n[06:22.58] To process it, I'll set it\n[06:23.20] I said it!\n[06:23.98] So keep running around hot headed\n[06:26.48] Till you get hot leaded\n[06:27.95] Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:29.94] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.59] Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n[06:35.24] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n[06:38.31] With Joe spell, NO L!\n[06:41.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse\n artist: Joe Budden feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I & Royce da 5′9″\n album: Halfway House\n duration_ms: 422000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n start_ms: 9310\n end_ms: 10250\n- text: '[Joell Ortiz:]'\n start_ms: 10250\n end_ms: 10880\n- text: I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n start_ms: 10880\n end_ms: 11530\n- text: Hip hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 11530\n end_ms: 12760\n- text: But I'll be fine brother\n start_ms: 12760\n end_ms: 13550\n- text: My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n start_ms: 13550\n end_ms: 14890\n- text: Listen, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 14890\n end_ms: 16320\n- text: You throw a shot at me\n start_ms: 16320\n end_ms: 17560\n- text: I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 17560\n end_ms: 18770\n- text: Your's is on a joint\n start_ms: 18770\n end_ms: 19950\n- text: Mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 19950\n end_ms: 21360\n- text: Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21360\n end_ms: 23500\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23500\n end_ms: 25970\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n start_ms: 25970\n end_ms: 28030\n- text: They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n start_ms: 28030\n end_ms: 29800\n- text: Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n start_ms: 29800\n end_ms: 31770\n- text: Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n start_ms: 31770\n end_ms: 34250\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n start_ms: 34250\n end_ms: 36720\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n start_ms: 36720\n end_ms: 38900\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n start_ms: 38900\n end_ms: 41650\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n start_ms: 41650\n end_ms: 44410\n- text: The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n start_ms: 44410\n end_ms: 47170\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47170\n end_ms: 49510\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49510\n end_ms: 51960\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 51960\n end_ms: 54680\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 54680\n end_ms: 57090\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57090\n end_ms: 59370\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 59370\n end_ms: 62300\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62300\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 67110\n- text: '[Nino Bless:]'\n start_ms: 67110\n end_ms: 67710\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n start_ms: 67710\n end_ms: 70280\n- text: That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70280\n end_ms: 72300\n- text: You bird's is food\n start_ms: 72300\n end_ms: 74050\n- text: I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n start_ms: 74050\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 79450\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 79450\n end_ms: 82950\n- text: I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n start_ms: 82950\n end_ms: 85080\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85080\n end_ms: 87920\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87920\n end_ms: 90520\n- text: Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90520\n end_ms: 93330\n- text: Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n start_ms: 93330\n end_ms: 97180\n- text: Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n start_ms: 97180\n end_ms: 99530\n- text: Shit, been through it all\n start_ms: 99530\n end_ms: 101500\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101500\n end_ms: 103620\n- text: I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103620\n end_ms: 106530\n- text: Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n start_ms: 106530\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 110170\n- text: Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110170\n end_ms: 112250\n- text: Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n start_ms: 112250\n end_ms: 114990\n- text: Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 114990\n end_ms: 117330\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117330\n end_ms: 119470\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n start_ms: 119470\n end_ms: 121560\n- text: When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n start_ms: 121560\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 125230\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125230\n end_ms: 127450\n- text: When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n start_ms: 127450\n end_ms: 130150\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130150\n end_ms: 133300\n- text: I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133300\n end_ms: 135660\n- text: What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n start_ms: 135660\n end_ms: 138270\n- text: You was a willy\n start_ms: 138270\n end_ms: 139410\n- text: Now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 139410\n end_ms: 140880\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense\n start_ms: 140880\n end_ms: 142450\n- text: I really pop shit\n start_ms: 142450\n end_ms: 143810\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143810\n end_ms: 145630\n- text: I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n start_ms: 145630\n end_ms: 148410\n- text: On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n start_ms: 148410\n end_ms: 150770\n- text: '[Crooked I:]'\n start_ms: 150770\n end_ms: 151590\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n start_ms: 151590\n end_ms: 153190\n- text: I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 153190\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 157820\n- text: Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n start_ms: 157820\n end_ms: 160730\n- text: Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160730\n end_ms: 163080\n- text: Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n start_ms: 163080\n end_ms: 165450\n- text: Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n start_ms: 165450\n end_ms: 168840\n- text: The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 168840\n end_ms: 171500\n- text: You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n start_ms: 171500\n end_ms: 174090\n- text: I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n start_ms: 174090\n end_ms: 175920\n- text: In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n start_ms: 175920\n end_ms: 181180\n- text: From Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 181180\n end_ms: 182250\n- text: I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n start_ms: 182250\n end_ms: 183020\n- text: I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 183020\n end_ms: 184510\n- text: Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n start_ms: 184510\n end_ms: 186920\n- text: Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n start_ms: 186920\n end_ms: 189790\n- text: Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 189790\n end_ms: 194070\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 194070\n end_ms: 194750\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 194750\n end_ms: 196940\n- text: Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 196940\n end_ms: 199010\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199010\n end_ms: 201150\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 201150\n end_ms: 203000\n- text: I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 203000\n end_ms: 205280\n- text: Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n start_ms: 205280\n end_ms: 207460\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n start_ms: 207460\n end_ms: 210680\n- text: Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 210680\n end_ms: 212840\n- text: '[Royce Da 59:]'\n start_ms: 212840\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: I hope niggas know\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214820\n- text: I'll show up to ya show\n start_ms: 214820\n end_ms: 215950\n- text: I'll show up where you go\n start_ms: 215950\n end_ms: 216860\n- text: Show up to ya door\n start_ms: 216860\n end_ms: 217910\n- text: 4's will explode shells\n start_ms: 217910\n end_ms: 219250\n- text: For they hit the flo'\n start_ms: 219250\n end_ms: 220250\n- text: I know niggas know\n start_ms: 220250\n end_ms: 221130\n- text: I got an open window flow\n start_ms: 221130\n end_ms: 222580\n- text: I air shit out\n start_ms: 222580\n end_ms: 223840\n- text: In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223840\n end_ms: 226090\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226090\n end_ms: 227820\n- text: Guess why?\n start_ms: 227820\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 231280\n- text: Cause when it come to them words\n start_ms: 231280\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: You know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 234430\n- text: I write rhymes like white lines\n start_ms: 234430\n end_ms: 236430\n- text: On the nose tray\n start_ms: 236430\n end_ms: 237780\n- text: Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237780\n end_ms: 239550\n- text: Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 239550\n end_ms: 242350\n- text: Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242350\n end_ms: 245570\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 245570\n end_ms: 247920\n- text: Hammers stay hummin'\n start_ms: 247920\n end_ms: 248810\n- text: Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n start_ms: 248810\n end_ms: 250610\n- text: Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n start_ms: 250610\n end_ms: 252540\n- text: More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252540\n end_ms: 255160\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 255160\n end_ms: 258220\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258220\n end_ms: 260820\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n start_ms: 260820\n end_ms: 263430\n- text: If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263430\n end_ms: 265820\n- text: Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265820\n end_ms: 267870\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n start_ms: 267870\n end_ms: 269620\n- text: I'm a living anal probe\n start_ms: 269620\n end_ms: 271240\n- text: I'm a lame-a-phobe\n start_ms: 271240\n end_ms: 272540\n- text: Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n start_ms: 272540\n end_ms: 274480\n- text: (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n start_ms: 274480\n end_ms: 276050\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n start_ms: 276050\n end_ms: 278390\n- text: Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278390\n end_ms: 280640\n- text: I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 280640\n end_ms: 283490\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283490\n end_ms: 286170\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 286170\n end_ms: 288880\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288880\n end_ms: 291780\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly\n start_ms: 291780\n end_ms: 293810\n- text: Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 293810\n end_ms: 296040\n- text: '[Joe Budden:]'\n start_ms: 296040\n end_ms: 296670\n- text: They say he a bastard for real\n start_ms: 296670\n end_ms: 299360\n- text: Then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 299360\n end_ms: 300070\n- text: So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300070\n end_ms: 301810\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301810\n end_ms: 305140\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 305140\n end_ms: 307020\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307020\n end_ms: 309370\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n start_ms: 309370\n end_ms: 313410\n- text: Endless, move more then 2 inches\n start_ms: 313410\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315550\n end_ms: 318580\n- text: So end this, or see me manana\n start_ms: 318580\n end_ms: 320830\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama\n start_ms: 320830\n end_ms: 322690\n- text: Underground prima donna\n start_ms: 322690\n end_ms: 323350\n- text: That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n start_ms: 323350\n end_ms: 324160\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 324160\n end_ms: 325610\n- text: I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 325610\n end_ms: 330580\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330580\n end_ms: 333170\n- text: My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n start_ms: 333170\n end_ms: 335890\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 335890\n end_ms: 338410\n- text: Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n start_ms: 338410\n end_ms: 340800\n- text: When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340800\n end_ms: 343020\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343020\n end_ms: 346090\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346090\n end_ms: 348860\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348860\n end_ms: 351320\n- text: Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n start_ms: 351320\n end_ms: 354330\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n start_ms: 354330\n end_ms: 356550\n- text: Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n start_ms: 356550\n end_ms: 358800\n- text: So ya'll could bump swag like us\n start_ms: 358800\n end_ms: 361610\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed\n start_ms: 361610\n end_ms: 363840\n- text: Add this as a plus\n start_ms: 363840\n end_ms: 364900\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364900\n end_ms: 366740\n- text: And would get up in that ass\n start_ms: 366740\n end_ms: 368220\n- text: But the fags might bust\n start_ms: 368220\n end_ms: 369670\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369670\n end_ms: 371810\n- text: I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n start_ms: 371810\n end_ms: 374330\n- text: Chicks removing they drawls\n start_ms: 374330\n end_ms: 377020\n- text: Now your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 377020\n end_ms: 379730\n- text: How you ball?\n start_ms: 379730\n end_ms: 380510\n- text: Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 380510\n end_ms: 381040\n- text: You gon' need another processor,\n start_ms: 381040\n end_ms: 382580\n- text: To process it, I'll set it\n start_ms: 382580\n end_ms: 383200\n- text: I said it!\n start_ms: 383200\n end_ms: 383980\n- text: So keep running around hot headed\n start_ms: 383980\n end_ms: 386480\n- text: Till you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 386480\n end_ms: 387950\n- text: Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387950\n end_ms: 389940\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 389940\n end_ms: 392590\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n start_ms: 392590\n end_ms: 395240\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n start_ms: 395240\n end_ms: 398310\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L!\n start_ms: 398310\n end_ms: 401090\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 401090\nplain: |-\n (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n [Joell Ortiz:]\n I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n Hip hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother\n My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n Listen, that's word to my mother\n You throw a shot at me\n I'm throwing a shot back\n Your's is on a joint\n Mine's whistling by your top hat\n Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n [Nino Bless:]\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n You bird's is food\n I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n Shit, been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n Like sick cracker shit\n Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n Don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n You was a willy\n Now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense\n I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n [Crooked I:]\n I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n From Switzerland to New York\n I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n [Royce Da 59:]\n I hope niggas know\n I'll show up to ya show\n I'll show up where you go\n Show up to ya door\n 4's will explode shells\n For they hit the flo'\n I know niggas know\n I got an open window flow\n I air shit out\n In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why?\n Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n Cause when it come to them words\n You know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like white lines\n On the nose tray\n Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay hummin'\n Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n I'm a living anal probe\n I'm a lame-a-phobe\n Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly\n Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n [Joe Budden:]\n They say he a bastard for real\n Then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n Endless, move more then 2 inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this, or see me manana\n Or see the speed of a llama\n Underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n So ya'll could bump swag like us\n But the next time rap's discussed\n Add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass\n But the fags might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n Chicks removing they drawls\n Now your crew is in awe\n How you ball?\n Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor,\n To process it, I'll set it\n I said it!\n So keep running around hot headed\n Till you get hot leaded\n Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L!\n"},{"id":10262288,"name":"Slaughterhouse","trackName":"Slaughterhouse","artistName":"Joe Budden feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, KXNG Crooked & Royce da 5′9″","albumName":"Halfway House","duration":421.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n[Joell Ortiz:]\nI define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\nHip hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother\nMy mind hovers above all you jive suckers\nListen, that's word to my mother\nYou throw a shot at me\nI'm throwing a shot back\nYour's is on a joint\nMine's whistling by your top hat\nYa I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\nThey fifth is lyin in they second drawer\nNext door to some bullshit they ironed\nYa'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\nThe pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n[Nino Bless:]\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\nThat term's done fucka, what up whatever\nYou bird's is food\nI'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\nPlus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar, you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDroppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\nSwear on my pops, no fear in my heart\nShit, been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\nLike sick cracker shit\nGet back dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\nDog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white\nWhen I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\nDon't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\nYou was a willy\nNow you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense\nI really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolvin, but grown bitter\nOn your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n[Crooked I:]\nI don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\nI breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\nUnless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\nForever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\nOnly when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\nThe dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\nIn my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\nFrom Switzerland to New York\nI was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\nI'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\nSicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\nDay old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\nTryin to keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI'll send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n[Royce Da 59:]\nI hope niggas know\nI'll show up to ya show\nI'll show up where you go\nShow up to ya door\n4's will explode shells\nFor they hit the flo'\nI know niggas know\nI got an open window flow\nI air shit out\nIn the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why?\nShiiiiiiiiiieeett\nCause when it come to them words\nYou know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like white lines\nOn the nose tray\nIce cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRiding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay hummin'\nLike strummin' the mandolin or violin\nSpeaking of, I done played into the violence\nMore then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\nIf I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTill it ain't no more, ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed\nI'm a living anal probe\nI'm a lame-a-phobe\nMatter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n(WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\nNow I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly\nGoin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n[Joe Budden:]\nThey say he a bastard for real\nThen they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\nEndless, move more then 2 inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this, or see me manana\nOr see the speed of a llama\nUnderground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\nWhen it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a box, wait\nZipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\nSo ya'll could bump swag like us\nBut the next time rap's discussed\nAdd this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass\nBut the fags might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\nChicks removing they drawls\nNow your crew is in awe\nHow you ball?\nYour jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor,\nTo process it, I'll set it\nI said it!\nSo keep running around hot headed\nTill you get hot leaded\nTill everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L!","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.31] (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n[00:10.25] [Joell Ortiz:]\n[00:10.88] I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n[00:11.53] Hip hop got my spine smothered\n[00:12.76] But I'll be fine brother\n[00:13.55] My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n[00:14.89] Listen, that's word to my mother\n[00:16.32] You throw a shot at me\n[00:17.56] I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.77] Your's is on a joint\n[00:19.95] Mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.36] Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.50] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:25.97] I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n[00:28.03] They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n[00:29.80] Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n[00:31.77] Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n[00:34.25] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n[00:36.72] I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n[00:38.90] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n[00:41.65] Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n[00:44.41] The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n[00:47.17] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.51] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:51.96] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:54.68] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.09] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[00:59.37] I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.30] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.63] You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n[01:07.11] [Nino Bless:]\n[01:07.71] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n[01:10.28] That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n[01:12.30] You bird's is food\n[01:14.05] I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n[01:16.25] Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n[01:19.45] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:22.95] I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n[01:25.08] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.92] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.52] Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n[01:33.33] Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n[01:37.18] Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n[01:39.53] Shit, been through it all\n[01:41.50] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.62] I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.53] Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n[01:49.58] Like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.17] Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.25] Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n[01:54.99] Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.33] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.47] You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n[02:01.56] When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n[02:03.75] Don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.23] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.45] When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n[02:10.15] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.30] I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:15.66] What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n[02:18.27] You was a willy\n[02:19.41] Now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.88] I ain't with that silly nonsense\n[02:22.45] I really pop shit\n[02:23.81] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:25.63] I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n[02:28.41] On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n[02:30.77] [Crooked I:]\n[02:31.59] I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n[02:33.19] I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.50] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n[02:37.82] Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n[02:40.73] Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.08] Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n[02:45.45] Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n[02:48.84] The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n[02:51.50] You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n[02:54.09] I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n[02:55.92] In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n[03:01.18] From Switzerland to New York\n[03:02.25] I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n[03:03.02] I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.51] Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n[03:06.92] Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n[03:09.79] Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:14.07] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:14.75] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:16.94] Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.01] The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n[03:21.15] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:23.00] I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.28] Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n[03:27.46] It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n[03:30.68] Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:32.84] [Royce Da 59:]\n[03:33.48] I hope niggas know\n[03:34.82] I'll show up to ya show\n[03:35.95] I'll show up where you go\n[03:36.86] Show up to ya door\n[03:37.91] 4's will explode shells\n[03:39.25] For they hit the flo'\n[03:40.25] I know niggas know\n[03:41.13] I got an open window flow\n[03:42.58] I air shit out\n[03:43.84] In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.09] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.82] Guess why?\n[03:49.44] Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n[03:51.28] Cause when it come to them words\n[03:52.55] You know I wear shit out\n[03:54.43] I write rhymes like white lines\n[03:56.43] On the nose tray\n[03:57.78] Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[03:59.55] Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.35] Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:05.57] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.92] Hammers stay hummin'\n[04:08.81] Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n[04:10.61] Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n[04:12.54] More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:15.16] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.22] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:20.82] Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n[04:23.43] If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.82] Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n[04:27.87] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n[04:29.62] I'm a living anal probe\n[04:31.24] I'm a lame-a-phobe\n[04:32.54] Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n[04:34.48] (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n[04:36.05] When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n[04:38.39] Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:40.64] I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.49] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:46.17] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.88] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.78] I'm like Marty McFly\n[04:53.81] Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.04] [Joe Budden:]\n[04:56.67] They say he a bastard for real\n[04:59.36] Then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.07] So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n[05:01.81] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:05.14] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.02] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.37] I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n[05:13.41] Endless, move more then 2 inches\n[05:15.55] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:18.58] So end this, or see me manana\n[05:20.83] Or see the speed of a llama\n[05:22.69] Underground prima donna\n[05:23.35] That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n[05:24.16] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:25.61] I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.58] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.17] My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n[05:35.89] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.41] Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n[05:40.80] When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.02] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.09] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.86] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.32] Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n[05:54.33] Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n[05:56.55] Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n[05:58.80] So ya'll could bump swag like us\n[06:01.61] But the next time rap's discussed\n[06:03.84] Add this as a plus\n[06:04.90] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.74] And would get up in that ass\n[06:08.22] But the fags might bust\n[06:09.67] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.81] I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n[06:14.33] Chicks removing they drawls\n[06:17.02] Now your crew is in awe\n[06:19.73] How you ball?\n[06:20.51] Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:21.04] You gon' need another processor,\n[06:22.58] To process it, I'll set it\n[06:23.20] I said it!\n[06:23.98] So keep running around hot headed\n[06:26.48] Till you get hot leaded\n[06:27.95] Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:29.94] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.59] Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n[06:35.24] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n[06:38.31] With Joe spell, NO L!\n[06:41.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse\n artist: Joe Budden feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, KXNG Crooked & Royce da 5′9″\n album: Halfway House\n duration_ms: 421000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n start_ms: 9310\n end_ms: 10250\n- text: '[Joell Ortiz:]'\n start_ms: 10250\n end_ms: 10880\n- text: I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n start_ms: 10880\n end_ms: 11530\n- text: Hip hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 11530\n end_ms: 12760\n- text: But I'll be fine brother\n start_ms: 12760\n end_ms: 13550\n- text: My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n start_ms: 13550\n end_ms: 14890\n- text: Listen, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 14890\n end_ms: 16320\n- text: You throw a shot at me\n start_ms: 16320\n end_ms: 17560\n- text: I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 17560\n end_ms: 18770\n- text: Your's is on a joint\n start_ms: 18770\n end_ms: 19950\n- text: Mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 19950\n end_ms: 21360\n- text: Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21360\n end_ms: 23500\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23500\n end_ms: 25970\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n start_ms: 25970\n end_ms: 28030\n- text: They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n start_ms: 28030\n end_ms: 29800\n- text: Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n start_ms: 29800\n end_ms: 31770\n- text: Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n start_ms: 31770\n end_ms: 34250\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n start_ms: 34250\n end_ms: 36720\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n start_ms: 36720\n end_ms: 38900\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n start_ms: 38900\n end_ms: 41650\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n start_ms: 41650\n end_ms: 44410\n- text: The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n start_ms: 44410\n end_ms: 47170\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47170\n end_ms: 49510\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49510\n end_ms: 51960\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 51960\n end_ms: 54680\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 54680\n end_ms: 57090\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57090\n end_ms: 59370\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 59370\n end_ms: 62300\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62300\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 67110\n- text: '[Nino Bless:]'\n start_ms: 67110\n end_ms: 67710\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n start_ms: 67710\n end_ms: 70280\n- text: That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70280\n end_ms: 72300\n- text: You bird's is food\n start_ms: 72300\n end_ms: 74050\n- text: I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n start_ms: 74050\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 79450\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 79450\n end_ms: 82950\n- text: I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n start_ms: 82950\n end_ms: 85080\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85080\n end_ms: 87920\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87920\n end_ms: 90520\n- text: Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90520\n end_ms: 93330\n- text: Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n start_ms: 93330\n end_ms: 97180\n- text: Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n start_ms: 97180\n end_ms: 99530\n- text: Shit, been through it all\n start_ms: 99530\n end_ms: 101500\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101500\n end_ms: 103620\n- text: I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103620\n end_ms: 106530\n- text: Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n start_ms: 106530\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 110170\n- text: Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110170\n end_ms: 112250\n- text: Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n start_ms: 112250\n end_ms: 114990\n- text: Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 114990\n end_ms: 117330\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117330\n end_ms: 119470\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n start_ms: 119470\n end_ms: 121560\n- text: When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n start_ms: 121560\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 125230\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125230\n end_ms: 127450\n- text: When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n start_ms: 127450\n end_ms: 130150\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130150\n end_ms: 133300\n- text: I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133300\n end_ms: 135660\n- text: What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n start_ms: 135660\n end_ms: 138270\n- text: You was a willy\n start_ms: 138270\n end_ms: 139410\n- text: Now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 139410\n end_ms: 140880\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense\n start_ms: 140880\n end_ms: 142450\n- text: I really pop shit\n start_ms: 142450\n end_ms: 143810\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143810\n end_ms: 145630\n- text: I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n start_ms: 145630\n end_ms: 148410\n- text: On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n start_ms: 148410\n end_ms: 150770\n- text: '[Crooked I:]'\n start_ms: 150770\n end_ms: 151590\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n start_ms: 151590\n end_ms: 153190\n- text: I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 153190\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 157820\n- text: Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n start_ms: 157820\n end_ms: 160730\n- text: Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160730\n end_ms: 163080\n- text: Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n start_ms: 163080\n end_ms: 165450\n- text: Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n start_ms: 165450\n end_ms: 168840\n- text: The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 168840\n end_ms: 171500\n- text: You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n start_ms: 171500\n end_ms: 174090\n- text: I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n start_ms: 174090\n end_ms: 175920\n- text: In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n start_ms: 175920\n end_ms: 181180\n- text: From Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 181180\n end_ms: 182250\n- text: I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n start_ms: 182250\n end_ms: 183020\n- text: I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 183020\n end_ms: 184510\n- text: Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n start_ms: 184510\n end_ms: 186920\n- text: Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n start_ms: 186920\n end_ms: 189790\n- text: Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 189790\n end_ms: 194070\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 194070\n end_ms: 194750\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 194750\n end_ms: 196940\n- text: Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 196940\n end_ms: 199010\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199010\n end_ms: 201150\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 201150\n end_ms: 203000\n- text: I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 203000\n end_ms: 205280\n- text: Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n start_ms: 205280\n end_ms: 207460\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n start_ms: 207460\n end_ms: 210680\n- text: Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 210680\n end_ms: 212840\n- text: '[Royce Da 59:]'\n start_ms: 212840\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: I hope niggas know\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214820\n- text: I'll show up to ya show\n start_ms: 214820\n end_ms: 215950\n- text: I'll show up where you go\n start_ms: 215950\n end_ms: 216860\n- text: Show up to ya door\n start_ms: 216860\n end_ms: 217910\n- text: 4's will explode shells\n start_ms: 217910\n end_ms: 219250\n- text: For they hit the flo'\n start_ms: 219250\n end_ms: 220250\n- text: I know niggas know\n start_ms: 220250\n end_ms: 221130\n- text: I got an open window flow\n start_ms: 221130\n end_ms: 222580\n- text: I air shit out\n start_ms: 222580\n end_ms: 223840\n- text: In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223840\n end_ms: 226090\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226090\n end_ms: 227820\n- text: Guess why?\n start_ms: 227820\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 231280\n- text: Cause when it come to them words\n start_ms: 231280\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: You know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 234430\n- text: I write rhymes like white lines\n start_ms: 234430\n end_ms: 236430\n- text: On the nose tray\n start_ms: 236430\n end_ms: 237780\n- text: Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237780\n end_ms: 239550\n- text: Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 239550\n end_ms: 242350\n- text: Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242350\n end_ms: 245570\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 245570\n end_ms: 247920\n- text: Hammers stay hummin'\n start_ms: 247920\n end_ms: 248810\n- text: Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n start_ms: 248810\n end_ms: 250610\n- text: Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n start_ms: 250610\n end_ms: 252540\n- text: More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252540\n end_ms: 255160\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 255160\n end_ms: 258220\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258220\n end_ms: 260820\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n start_ms: 260820\n end_ms: 263430\n- text: If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263430\n end_ms: 265820\n- text: Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265820\n end_ms: 267870\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n start_ms: 267870\n end_ms: 269620\n- text: I'm a living anal probe\n start_ms: 269620\n end_ms: 271240\n- text: I'm a lame-a-phobe\n start_ms: 271240\n end_ms: 272540\n- text: Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n start_ms: 272540\n end_ms: 274480\n- text: (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n start_ms: 274480\n end_ms: 276050\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n start_ms: 276050\n end_ms: 278390\n- text: Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278390\n end_ms: 280640\n- text: I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 280640\n end_ms: 283490\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283490\n end_ms: 286170\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 286170\n end_ms: 288880\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288880\n end_ms: 291780\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly\n start_ms: 291780\n end_ms: 293810\n- text: Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 293810\n end_ms: 296040\n- text: '[Joe Budden:]'\n start_ms: 296040\n end_ms: 296670\n- text: They say he a bastard for real\n start_ms: 296670\n end_ms: 299360\n- text: Then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 299360\n end_ms: 300070\n- text: So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300070\n end_ms: 301810\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301810\n end_ms: 305140\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 305140\n end_ms: 307020\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307020\n end_ms: 309370\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n start_ms: 309370\n end_ms: 313410\n- text: Endless, move more then 2 inches\n start_ms: 313410\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315550\n end_ms: 318580\n- text: So end this, or see me manana\n start_ms: 318580\n end_ms: 320830\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama\n start_ms: 320830\n end_ms: 322690\n- text: Underground prima donna\n start_ms: 322690\n end_ms: 323350\n- text: That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n start_ms: 323350\n end_ms: 324160\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 324160\n end_ms: 325610\n- text: I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 325610\n end_ms: 330580\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330580\n end_ms: 333170\n- text: My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n start_ms: 333170\n end_ms: 335890\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 335890\n end_ms: 338410\n- text: Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n start_ms: 338410\n end_ms: 340800\n- text: When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340800\n end_ms: 343020\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343020\n end_ms: 346090\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346090\n end_ms: 348860\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348860\n end_ms: 351320\n- text: Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n start_ms: 351320\n end_ms: 354330\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n start_ms: 354330\n end_ms: 356550\n- text: Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n start_ms: 356550\n end_ms: 358800\n- text: So ya'll could bump swag like us\n start_ms: 358800\n end_ms: 361610\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed\n start_ms: 361610\n end_ms: 363840\n- text: Add this as a plus\n start_ms: 363840\n end_ms: 364900\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364900\n end_ms: 366740\n- text: And would get up in that ass\n start_ms: 366740\n end_ms: 368220\n- text: But the fags might bust\n start_ms: 368220\n end_ms: 369670\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369670\n end_ms: 371810\n- text: I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n start_ms: 371810\n end_ms: 374330\n- text: Chicks removing they drawls\n start_ms: 374330\n end_ms: 377020\n- text: Now your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 377020\n end_ms: 379730\n- text: How you ball?\n start_ms: 379730\n end_ms: 380510\n- text: Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 380510\n end_ms: 381040\n- text: You gon' need another processor,\n start_ms: 381040\n end_ms: 382580\n- text: To process it, I'll set it\n start_ms: 382580\n end_ms: 383200\n- text: I said it!\n start_ms: 383200\n end_ms: 383980\n- text: So keep running around hot headed\n start_ms: 383980\n end_ms: 386480\n- text: Till you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 386480\n end_ms: 387950\n- text: Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387950\n end_ms: 389940\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 389940\n end_ms: 392590\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n start_ms: 392590\n end_ms: 395240\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n start_ms: 395240\n end_ms: 398310\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L!\n start_ms: 398310\n end_ms: 401090\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 401090\nplain: |-\n (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n [Joell Ortiz:]\n I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n Hip hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother\n My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n Listen, that's word to my mother\n You throw a shot at me\n I'm throwing a shot back\n Your's is on a joint\n Mine's whistling by your top hat\n Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n [Nino Bless:]\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n You bird's is food\n I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n Shit, been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n Like sick cracker shit\n Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n Don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n You was a willy\n Now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense\n I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n [Crooked I:]\n I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n From Switzerland to New York\n I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n [Royce Da 59:]\n I hope niggas know\n I'll show up to ya show\n I'll show up where you go\n Show up to ya door\n 4's will explode shells\n For they hit the flo'\n I know niggas know\n I got an open window flow\n I air shit out\n In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why?\n Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n Cause when it come to them words\n You know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like white lines\n On the nose tray\n Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay hummin'\n Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n I'm a living anal probe\n I'm a lame-a-phobe\n Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly\n Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n [Joe Budden:]\n They say he a bastard for real\n Then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n Endless, move more then 2 inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this, or see me manana\n Or see the speed of a llama\n Underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n So ya'll could bump swag like us\n But the next time rap's discussed\n Add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass\n But the fags might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n Chicks removing they drawls\n Now your crew is in awe\n How you ball?\n Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor,\n To process it, I'll set it\n I said it!\n So keep running around hot headed\n Till you get hot leaded\n Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L!\n"},{"id":6232958,"name":"We Outta Here","trackName":"We Outta Here","artistName":"Joe Budden feat. Slaughterhouse","albumName":"Escape Route","duration":285.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Feat. Royce Da 5'9\", Joell Ortiz, Crooked I)\n[Intro: Royce]\nYour left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\nYour right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n[Gunfire]\nYour left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\nYour right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n[Whistle blows]\n\n[Female] Slaughter\n\n[Royce Da 5'9\"]\nPoppa-Poppa Pistol stuck his dick in Momma Missile\nAnd created Mr. Got-to-Get-You if he opposite just split\nYou niggaz bitches cranberry like a vodka mixer\nWhippin bitches niggaz black, ass like a cotton picker\nBomb through debris - I'm holdin two pistols\nIn the form of a crosshair, I am armed to the T\nI put on for my city, I take off for whoever\nThink I'm soft for my job of rappin, go back to clappin\nBack to illin, back to dealin, back to coc-a-ina\nUp the nose, that's the feelin, sky the limit, that's the ceilin\nAnd the women is the whores, puttin numbers up for sales\nIt's the score into hell, it's the feel, it's the feel\n\n[Chorus: Royce Da 5'9\" - singing with AutoTune]\nI can make noise when the gat blowwwww-ooooooh-oooh\nThe Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blowwwww-ohhhhh-ooooh\nIt's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouuuuuuuse\nWe outta here, we outta here, we outta here\nIt's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouse\nWe outta here, we outta here, we outta\n\n[Joe Budden]\n[Starts off screwed] I live my life like a hood bopper\nTouched by evil, all about bread and evil\nRegular people lookin like bread to eagles with the desert eagle\nCordially they forcin me to act accordingly\nWhen according to me my thoughts disorderly just like they outta be\nIt's more to me in accord to me\nJust mad at the smoke and the mirrors, image, perceptions and the forgery\nEverything is a fraud to me\nSo until the boys wake up, me and my boys make up\nBe with the toy sprayers, aimin noise makers at the noise makers (blam)\nBest group ever, group of whoever who do it better\nBets placed on it (nigga!) number one got our face on it\nAnd I make a case on it, treason\nEvery twelve months it's huntin season\nThey call us Slaughterhouse for a reason!\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Royce] Crooked!\n\n[Crooked I]\nPiano face Audemars, you haters know the time\nDrug abusin fourth-grader, I mean a loaded nine\nHits in the stash, Ferrari Spider, the road is mine\nLike lap dancers and bad brakes, I'm on the grind\nSo tell Officer Crawford that this is (Slaughterhouse)\nAnd I left the next black president in his daughter's mouth\nSwallow my kids then I'm like, \"Yo I gotta bounce\"\nBen Franklin's a math genius and every dollar counts\nWe takin over the game, go at you little wussies\n(Why?) Cause that's the sweetest joy next to gettin pussy\nSomethin bad is emergin\nSlaughter's blowin up like a suicide bomber promised 70 virgins nigga\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Royce] Ortiz!\n\n[Joell Ortiz]\nOne quarter of Slaughter reportin to you live\nFrom a corner where reporters stop by\nSince somebody playin pow-pow\nShots fly out a glock-9 'til you cooked like a potpie\nTake a look at everybody in my crew\nBet you can't find a member of the squad that is not fly\nAnybody say they can see us they either lyin\nOr not wearin they glasses, apparently cock-eyed\nWe don't shit, we ca-ca\nWe don't spit, we emit lava\nGot a grip on these hip-hoppers like a big lobster\nEverybody know the deal when the hear the kid YOWWA!\nGoo-goo, ga-ga, baby cryin 'bout the internet\nThey get on the site but they showed me and Joe the other night\nTakin flights then lightin up a cigarette\nMotherfucker we ill, not one insect step short of the best thing\nEverything we touch make they head swing and, y'all ain't really interestin\nThrow a shot, and our fans do the interceptin\nYou got the crowd fooled but I ain't really into wrestlin (into wrestlin)\n\n[Chorus]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: We Outta Here\n artist: Joe Budden feat. Slaughterhouse\n album: Escape Route\n duration_ms: 285000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n (Feat. Royce Da 5'9\", Joell Ortiz, Crooked I)\n [Intro: Royce]\n Your left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n Your right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n [Gunfire]\n Your left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n Your right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)\n [Whistle blows]\n\n [Female] Slaughter\n\n [Royce Da 5'9\"]\n Poppa-Poppa Pistol stuck his dick in Momma Missile\n And created Mr. Got-to-Get-You if he opposite just split\n You niggaz bitches cranberry like a vodka mixer\n Whippin bitches niggaz black, ass like a cotton picker\n Bomb through debris - I'm holdin two pistols\n In the form of a crosshair, I am armed to the T\n I put on for my city, I take off for whoever\n Think I'm soft for my job of rappin, go back to clappin\n Back to illin, back to dealin, back to coc-a-ina\n Up the nose, that's the feelin, sky the limit, that's the ceilin\n And the women is the whores, puttin numbers up for sales\n It's the score into hell, it's the feel, it's the feel\n\n [Chorus: Royce Da 5'9\" - singing with AutoTune]\n I can make noise when the gat blowwwww-ooooooh-oooh\n The Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blowwwww-ohhhhh-ooooh\n It's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouuuuuuuse\n We outta here, we outta here, we outta here\n It's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouse\n We outta here, we outta here, we outta\n\n [Joe Budden]\n [Starts off screwed] I live my life like a hood bopper\n Touched by evil, all about bread and evil\n Regular people lookin like bread to eagles with the desert eagle\n Cordially they forcin me to act accordingly\n When according to me my thoughts disorderly just like they outta be\n It's more to me in accord to me\n Just mad at the smoke and the mirrors, image, perceptions and the forgery\n Everything is a fraud to me\n So until the boys wake up, me and my boys make up\n Be with the toy sprayers, aimin noise makers at the noise makers (blam)\n Best group ever, group of whoever who do it better\n Bets placed on it (nigga!) number one got our face on it\n And I make a case on it, treason\n Every twelve months it's huntin season\n They call us Slaughterhouse for a reason!\n\n [Chorus]\n\n [Royce] Crooked!\n\n [Crooked I]\n Piano face Audemars, you haters know the time\n Drug abusin fourth-grader, I mean a loaded nine\n Hits in the stash, Ferrari Spider, the road is mine\n Like lap dancers and bad brakes, I'm on the grind\n So tell Officer Crawford that this is (Slaughterhouse)\n And I left the next black president in his daughter's mouth\n Swallow my kids then I'm like, \"Yo I gotta bounce\"\n Ben Franklin's a math genius and every dollar counts\n We takin over the game, go at you little wussies\n (Why?) Cause that's the sweetest joy next to gettin pussy\n Somethin bad is emergin\n Slaughter's blowin up like a suicide bomber promised 70 virgins nigga\n\n [Chorus]\n\n [Royce] Ortiz!\n\n [Joell Ortiz]\n One quarter of Slaughter reportin to you live\n From a corner where reporters stop by\n Since somebody playin pow-pow\n Shots fly out a glock-9 'til you cooked like a potpie\n Take a look at everybody in my crew\n Bet you can't find a member of the squad that is not fly\n Anybody say they can see us they either lyin\n Or not wearin they glasses, apparently cock-eyed\n We don't shit, we ca-ca\n We don't spit, we emit lava\n Got a grip on these hip-hoppers like a big lobster\n Everybody know the deal when the hear the kid YOWWA!\n Goo-goo, ga-ga, baby cryin 'bout the internet\n They get on the site but they showed me and Joe the other night\n Takin flights then lightin up a cigarette\n Motherfucker we ill, not one insect step short of the best thing\n Everything we touch make they head swing and, y'all ain't really interestin\n Throw a shot, and our fans do the interceptin\n You got the crowd fooled but I ain't really into wrestlin (into wrestlin)\n\n [Chorus]\n"},{"id":21550169,"name":"Total Slaughter (feat. Slaughterhouse, Joe Budden, Royce Da 5'9\", Jonathan Hay, Mike Smith & Aktive)","trackName":"Total Slaughter (feat. Slaughterhouse, Joe Budden, Royce Da 5'9\", Jonathan Hay, Mike Smith & Aktive)","artistName":"KXNG Crooked","albumName":"Sex, Money & Hip-Hop","duration":219.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Total slaughter, total slaughter\nI won't leave a single man alive\nLa-di-da-di-die, la-di-da-di-die\nLet's begin killing time\n\nWant no part to your bars hooks or similes\nSo make sure the trash ain't put in my memory\nSongs sound like you ain't put in no energy\nI'm all time great i'll be put with the Kennedy's\nVeteran savvy rookies should know\nNever mind beef all about pussy and dough\nYou can get put in the bag like I took it to go\nIn the crib trophy case only took it for show\n[?] All dead corpses\nNow it look like i'm wearing all red forces\nDon't wanna be hearing niggas scream \"i'll clinch\"\nY'all already know who seen 'bout this (House Gang Whuddup!)\n\nThuggin' you love it, dead 'em, it's nuttin' to say\nBehead him and leaving his head on public display\nHoly mother of god i'm fuckin' a virgin\nMary i'm using a rubber\nYeah i'm gettin' money\nHigh's and lows I rise and pose like Heisman trophy's\nPardon me 'cuz as I impose I O.D\nAll my foes and peers i've know for years\nI no longer hear so y'all should call me OG\nMy style is squeeze and he constant meets content\nSo a memory of Trayvon Martin\nI take a man hood from him and then I feed him the Fleece Johnson\nY'all don't want it with the HOUSE GANG!\n\nPick 'em up let 'em down\nWhere I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\nWhere I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\nWhere I'm from we catch a body every day\nYeah we all about that (Slaughter, Slaughter,\nSlaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter)\nPick 'em up let 'em down\nWhere I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\nWhere I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\nWhere I'm from we catch a body every day\nYeah we all about that (Slaughter, Slaughter,\nSlaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter)\n\nEverybodys on everything\nPromethazine and phetamines the shit you never seen like ketamine\nNiggas on bikes drug peddling\nMarried to the life fuck a wedding ring\nI'm high as billie holiday, homes\nIn this modern day Rome, slaughters gotta stay on\nGimme a bottle now what chick is winning the lotto\nIf your women ain't willing to swallow tell your daughter stay home\nI just fucked me a black girl,\nand a white girl at the same time up in this bitch\nYou ain't never fuck a black girl,\nand a white girl, at the same time unless the bitch mix\nFlagrant, poor sportsman, in the Icabod Crane thing\nThat's the drop Ferrari headless horseman\nI'm too drunk to stop for law enforcement fuck that!\n\nPick 'em up let 'em down\nWhere I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\nWhere I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\nWhere I'm from we catch a body every day\nYeah we all about that (Slaughter, Slaughter,\nSlaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter)\nPick 'em up let 'em down\nWhere I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\nWhere I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\nWhere I'm from we catch a body every day\nYeah we all about that (Slaughter, Slaughter,\nSlaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter)\n\nTotal slaughter, total slaughter\nI won't leave a single man alive\nLa-di-da-di-die, la-di-da-di-die\nLet's begin killing time","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Total Slaughter (feat. Slaughterhouse, Joe Budden, Royce Da 5'9\", Jonathan Hay, Mike Smith & Aktive)\n artist: KXNG Crooked\n album: Sex, Money & Hip-Hop\n duration_ms: 219000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Total slaughter, total slaughter\n I won't leave a single man alive\n La-di-da-di-die, la-di-da-di-die\n Let's begin killing time\n\n Want no part to your bars hooks or similes\n So make sure the trash ain't put in my memory\n Songs sound like you ain't put in no energy\n I'm all time great i'll be put with the Kennedy's\n Veteran savvy rookies should know\n Never mind beef all about pussy and dough\n You can get put in the bag like I took it to go\n In the crib trophy case only took it for show\n [?] All dead corpses\n Now it look like i'm wearing all red forces\n Don't wanna be hearing niggas scream \"i'll clinch\"\n Y'all already know who seen 'bout this (House Gang Whuddup!)\n\n Thuggin' you love it, dead 'em, it's nuttin' to say\n Behead him and leaving his head on public display\n Holy mother of god i'm fuckin' a virgin\n Mary i'm using a rubber\n Yeah i'm gettin' money\n High's and lows I rise and pose like Heisman trophy's\n Pardon me 'cuz as I impose I O.D\n All my foes and peers i've know for years\n I no longer hear so y'all should call me OG\n My style is squeeze and he constant meets content\n So a memory of Trayvon Martin\n I take a man hood from him and then I feed him the Fleece Johnson\n Y'all don't want it with the HOUSE GANG!\n\n Pick 'em up let 'em down\n Where I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\n Where I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\n Where I'm from we catch a body every day\n Yeah we all about that (Slaughter, Slaughter,\n Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter)\n Pick 'em up let 'em down\n Where I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\n Where I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\n Where I'm from we catch a body every day\n Yeah we all about that (Slaughter, Slaughter,\n Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter)\n\n Everybodys on everything\n Promethazine and phetamines the shit you never seen like ketamine\n Niggas on bikes drug peddling\n Married to the life fuck a wedding ring\n I'm high as billie holiday, homes\n In this modern day Rome, slaughters gotta stay on\n Gimme a bottle now what chick is winning the lotto\n If your women ain't willing to swallow tell your daughter stay home\n I just fucked me a black girl,\n and a white girl at the same time up in this bitch\n You ain't never fuck a black girl,\n and a white girl, at the same time unless the bitch mix\n Flagrant, poor sportsman, in the Icabod Crane thing\n That's the drop Ferrari headless horseman\n I'm too drunk to stop for law enforcement fuck that!\n\n Pick 'em up let 'em down\n Where I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\n Where I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\n Where I'm from we catch a body every day\n Yeah we all about that (Slaughter, Slaughter,\n Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter)\n Pick 'em up let 'em down\n Where I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\n Where I'm from we see a fucking dead body every day\n Where I'm from we catch a body every day\n Yeah we all about that (Slaughter, Slaughter,\n Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter, Slaughter)\n\n Total slaughter, total slaughter\n I won't leave a single man alive\n La-di-da-di-die, la-di-da-di-die\n Let's begin killing time\n"},{"id":6251014,"name":"Slaughterhouse (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce da 5'9)","trackName":"Slaughterhouse (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce da 5'9)","artistName":"Joe Budden, Joell Ortiz, Crooked I, Nino Bless & Royce Da 5'9\"","albumName":"Halfway House","duration":422.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n[Joell Ortiz:]\nI define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\nHip hop got my spine smothered\nBut I'll be fine brother\nMy mind hovers above all you jive suckers\nListen, that's word to my mother\nYou throw a shot at me\nI'm throwing a shot back\nYour's is on a joint\nMine's whistling by your top hat\nYa I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\nOpen the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\nI'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\nThey fifth is lyin in they second drawer\nNext door to some bullshit they ironed\nYa'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\nI do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\nI ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\nTo get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\nVeterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\nThe pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\nNever in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\nBut in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\nI'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\nYou're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\nBetween us the gap's so crazy\nI'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\nI get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\nYou're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n[Nino Bless:]\nFuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\nThat term's done fucka, what up whatever\nYou bird's is food\nI'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\nPlus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\nWalk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\nI lust for cheddar, you owe me\nLeave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\nI'm somethin' like a phenomenon\nDroppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\nWhatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\nSwear on my pops, no fear in my heart\nShit, been through it all\nDone swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\nI'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\nOff a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\nLike sick cracker shit\nGet back dumb birds I ignore the hype\nClick clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\nDog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\nIt'll cost you, I'll off your life\nYou soft, I told you I'm raw white\nWhen I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\nDon't wanna see mornin' light\nAnd I feel like I'm forced to fight\nWhen the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\nOf course my metaphors are type awesome, right\nI got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\nWhat's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\nYou was a willy\nNow you all Common and really conscious\nI ain't with that silly nonsense\nI really pop shit\nMy gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\nI stay evolvin, but grown bitter\nOn your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n[Crooked I:]\nI don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\nI breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\nInstrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\nUnless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\nForever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\nOnly when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\nOnly when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\nThe dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\nYou'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\nI'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\nIn my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\nFrom Switzerland to New York\nI was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\nI'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\nShoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\nSicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\nDay old asshole flow, I drop new shit\nExclusive, you don't want it in fact\nI'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\nTryin to keep your stomach intact\nThe spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\nThat's when the tunnel go black\nI'll send your soul to the atmosphere\nFuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\nIt's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\nPut your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n[Royce Da 59:]\nI hope niggas know\nI'll show up to ya show\nI'll show up where you go\nShow up to ya door\n4's will explode shells\nFor they hit the flo'\nI know niggas know\nI got an open window flow\nI air shit out\nIn the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\nNow they call me Clay Davis\nGuess why?\nShiiiiiiiiiieeett\nCause when it come to them words\nYou know I wear shit out\nI write rhymes like white lines\nOn the nose tray\nIce cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\nRiding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\nNot the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\nForever stay violent, better stay silent\nHammers stay hummin'\nLike strummin' the mandolin or violin\nSpeaking of, I done played into the violence\nMore then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\nI wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\nEither that or we gon' slap niggas up\nDump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\nIf I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\nTill it ain't no more, ain't no dough\nGet into his ass cause I ain't opposed\nI'm a living anal probe\nI'm a lame-a-phobe\nMatter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n(WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\nWhen I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\nNow I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\nI pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\nCause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\nI leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\nI would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\nI'm like Marty McFly\nGoin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n[Joe Budden:]\nThey say he a bastard for real\nThen they see the ass on his girl\nSo they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\nI take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\nSo even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\nBars tremendous, it's in your best interest\nI insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\nEndless, move more then 2 inches\nMy blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\nSo end this, or see me manana\nOr see the speed of a llama\nUnderground prima donna\nThat ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\nWith hands like E. Honda, he a monster\nI love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\nBut for us to even beef you should be honored\nMy dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\nNah, rewind each line each time\nSpeak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\nWhen it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\nYou now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\nNigga I could fit your house in my condo\nI walk around like ratchets been legalized\nJust me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\nClosed casket, now you having a box, wait\nZipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\nSo ya'll could bump swag like us\nBut the next time rap's discussed\nAdd this as a plus\nDon't nobody hit the pad like us\nAnd would get up in that ass\nBut the fags might bust\nAnd since poppin' tags is a must\nI hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\nChicks removing they drawls\nNow your crew is in awe\nHow you ball?\nYour jewels from a cubicle in the mall\nYou gon' need another processor,\nTo process it, I'll set it\nI said it!\nSo keep running around hot headed\nTill you get hot leaded\nTill everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\nDigest it, niggas is pie-thetic\nRap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\nAll you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\nWith Joe spell, NO L!","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.31] (Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n[00:10.25] [Joell Ortiz:]\n[00:10.88] I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n[00:11.53] Hip hop got my spine smothered\n[00:12.76] But I'll be fine brother\n[00:13.55] My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n[00:14.89] Listen, that's word to my mother\n[00:16.32] You throw a shot at me\n[00:17.56] I'm throwing a shot back\n[00:18.77] Your's is on a joint\n[00:19.95] Mine's whistling by your top hat\n[00:21.36] Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n[00:23.50] Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n[00:25.97] I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n[00:28.03] They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n[00:29.80] Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n[00:31.77] Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n[00:34.25] I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n[00:36.72] I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n[00:38.90] To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n[00:41.65] Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n[00:44.41] The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n[00:47.17] Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n[00:49.51] But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n[00:51.96] I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n[00:54.68] You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n[00:57.09] Between us the gap's so crazy\n[00:59.37] I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n[01:02.30] I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n[01:04.63] You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n[01:07.11] [Nino Bless:]\n[01:07.71] Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n[01:10.28] That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n[01:12.30] You bird's is food\n[01:14.05] I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n[01:16.25] Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n[01:19.45] Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n[01:22.95] I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n[01:25.08] Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n[01:27.92] I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n[01:30.52] Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n[01:33.33] Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n[01:37.18] Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n[01:39.53] Shit, been through it all\n[01:41.50] Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n[01:43.62] I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n[01:46.53] Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n[01:49.58] Like sick cracker shit\n[01:50.17] Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n[01:52.25] Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n[01:54.99] Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n[01:57.33] It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n[01:59.47] You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n[02:01.56] When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n[02:03.75] Don't wanna see mornin' light\n[02:05.23] And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n[02:07.45] When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n[02:10.15] Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n[02:13.30] I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n[02:15.66] What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n[02:18.27] You was a willy\n[02:19.41] Now you all Common and really conscious\n[02:20.88] I ain't with that silly nonsense\n[02:22.45] I really pop shit\n[02:23.81] My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n[02:25.63] I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n[02:28.41] On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n[02:30.77] [Crooked I:]\n[02:31.59] I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n[02:33.19] I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n[02:35.50] Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n[02:37.82] Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n[02:40.73] Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n[02:43.08] Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n[02:45.45] Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n[02:48.84] The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n[02:51.50] You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n[02:54.09] I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n[02:55.92] In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n[03:01.18] From Switzerland to New York\n[03:02.25] I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n[03:03.02] I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n[03:04.51] Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n[03:06.92] Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n[03:09.79] Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n[03:14.07] Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n[03:14.75] I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n[03:16.94] Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n[03:19.01] The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n[03:21.15] That's when the tunnel go black\n[03:23.00] I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n[03:25.28] Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n[03:27.46] It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n[03:30.68] Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n[03:32.84] [Royce Da 59:]\n[03:33.48] I hope niggas know\n[03:34.82] I'll show up to ya show\n[03:35.95] I'll show up where you go\n[03:36.86] Show up to ya door\n[03:37.91] 4's will explode shells\n[03:39.25] For they hit the flo'\n[03:40.25] I know niggas know\n[03:41.13] I got an open window flow\n[03:42.58] I air shit out\n[03:43.84] In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n[03:46.09] Now they call me Clay Davis\n[03:47.82] Guess why?\n[03:49.44] Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n[03:51.28] Cause when it come to them words\n[03:52.55] You know I wear shit out\n[03:54.43] I write rhymes like white lines\n[03:56.43] On the nose tray\n[03:57.78] Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n[03:59.55] Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n[04:02.35] Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n[04:05.57] Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n[04:07.92] Hammers stay hummin'\n[04:08.81] Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n[04:10.61] Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n[04:12.54] More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n[04:15.16] I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n[04:18.22] Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n[04:20.82] Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n[04:23.43] If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n[04:25.82] Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n[04:27.87] Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n[04:29.62] I'm a living anal probe\n[04:31.24] I'm a lame-a-phobe\n[04:32.54] Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n[04:34.48] (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n[04:36.05] When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n[04:38.39] Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n[04:40.64] I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n[04:43.49] Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n[04:46.17] I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n[04:48.88] I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n[04:51.78] I'm like Marty McFly\n[04:53.81] Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n[04:56.04] [Joe Budden:]\n[04:56.67] They say he a bastard for real\n[04:59.36] Then they see the ass on his girl\n[05:00.07] So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n[05:01.81] I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n[05:05.14] So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n[05:07.02] Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n[05:09.37] I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n[05:13.41] Endless, move more then 2 inches\n[05:15.55] My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n[05:18.58] So end this, or see me manana\n[05:20.83] Or see the speed of a llama\n[05:22.69] Underground prima donna\n[05:23.35] That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n[05:24.16] With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n[05:25.61] I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n[05:30.58] But for us to even beef you should be honored\n[05:33.17] My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n[05:35.89] Nah, rewind each line each time\n[05:38.41] Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n[05:40.80] When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n[05:43.02] You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n[05:46.09] Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n[05:48.86] I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n[05:51.32] Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n[05:54.33] Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n[05:56.55] Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n[05:58.80] So ya'll could bump swag like us\n[06:01.61] But the next time rap's discussed\n[06:03.84] Add this as a plus\n[06:04.90] Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n[06:06.74] And would get up in that ass\n[06:08.22] But the fags might bust\n[06:09.67] And since poppin' tags is a must\n[06:11.81] I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n[06:14.33] Chicks removing they drawls\n[06:17.02] Now your crew is in awe\n[06:19.73] How you ball?\n[06:20.51] Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n[06:21.04] You gon' need another processor,\n[06:22.58] To process it, I'll set it\n[06:23.20] I said it!\n[06:23.98] So keep running around hot headed\n[06:26.48] Till you get hot leaded\n[06:27.95] Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n[06:29.94] Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n[06:32.59] Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n[06:35.24] All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n[06:38.31] With Joe spell, NO L!\n[06:41.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Slaughterhouse (feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce da 5'9)\n artist: Joe Budden, Joell Ortiz, Crooked I, Nino Bless & Royce Da 5'9\"\n album: Halfway House\n duration_ms: 422000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n start_ms: 9310\n end_ms: 10250\n- text: '[Joell Ortiz:]'\n start_ms: 10250\n end_ms: 10880\n- text: I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n start_ms: 10880\n end_ms: 11530\n- text: Hip hop got my spine smothered\n start_ms: 11530\n end_ms: 12760\n- text: But I'll be fine brother\n start_ms: 12760\n end_ms: 13550\n- text: My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n start_ms: 13550\n end_ms: 14890\n- text: Listen, that's word to my mother\n start_ms: 14890\n end_ms: 16320\n- text: You throw a shot at me\n start_ms: 16320\n end_ms: 17560\n- text: I'm throwing a shot back\n start_ms: 17560\n end_ms: 18770\n- text: Your's is on a joint\n start_ms: 18770\n end_ms: 19950\n- text: Mine's whistling by your top hat\n start_ms: 19950\n end_ms: 21360\n- text: Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n start_ms: 21360\n end_ms: 23500\n- text: Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n start_ms: 23500\n end_ms: 25970\n- text: I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n start_ms: 25970\n end_ms: 28030\n- text: They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n start_ms: 28030\n end_ms: 29800\n- text: Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n start_ms: 29800\n end_ms: 31770\n- text: Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n start_ms: 31770\n end_ms: 34250\n- text: I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n start_ms: 34250\n end_ms: 36720\n- text: I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n start_ms: 36720\n end_ms: 38900\n- text: To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n start_ms: 38900\n end_ms: 41650\n- text: Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n start_ms: 41650\n end_ms: 44410\n- text: The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n start_ms: 44410\n end_ms: 47170\n- text: Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n start_ms: 47170\n end_ms: 49510\n- text: But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n start_ms: 49510\n end_ms: 51960\n- text: I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n start_ms: 51960\n end_ms: 54680\n- text: You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n start_ms: 54680\n end_ms: 57090\n- text: Between us the gap's so crazy\n start_ms: 57090\n end_ms: 59370\n- text: I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n start_ms: 59370\n end_ms: 62300\n- text: I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n start_ms: 62300\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 67110\n- text: '[Nino Bless:]'\n start_ms: 67110\n end_ms: 67710\n- text: Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n start_ms: 67710\n end_ms: 70280\n- text: That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n start_ms: 70280\n end_ms: 72300\n- text: You bird's is food\n start_ms: 72300\n end_ms: 74050\n- text: I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n start_ms: 74050\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 79450\n- text: Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n start_ms: 79450\n end_ms: 82950\n- text: I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n start_ms: 82950\n end_ms: 85080\n- text: Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n start_ms: 85080\n end_ms: 87920\n- text: I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n start_ms: 87920\n end_ms: 90520\n- text: Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n start_ms: 90520\n end_ms: 93330\n- text: Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n start_ms: 93330\n end_ms: 97180\n- text: Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n start_ms: 97180\n end_ms: 99530\n- text: Shit, been through it all\n start_ms: 99530\n end_ms: 101500\n- text: Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n start_ms: 101500\n end_ms: 103620\n- text: I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n start_ms: 103620\n end_ms: 106530\n- text: Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n start_ms: 106530\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Like sick cracker shit\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 110170\n- text: Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n start_ms: 110170\n end_ms: 112250\n- text: Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n start_ms: 112250\n end_ms: 114990\n- text: Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n start_ms: 114990\n end_ms: 117330\n- text: It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n start_ms: 117330\n end_ms: 119470\n- text: You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n start_ms: 119470\n end_ms: 121560\n- text: When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n start_ms: 121560\n end_ms: 123750\n- text: Don't wanna see mornin' light\n start_ms: 123750\n end_ms: 125230\n- text: And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n start_ms: 125230\n end_ms: 127450\n- text: When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n start_ms: 127450\n end_ms: 130150\n- text: Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n start_ms: 130150\n end_ms: 133300\n- text: I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n start_ms: 133300\n end_ms: 135660\n- text: What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n start_ms: 135660\n end_ms: 138270\n- text: You was a willy\n start_ms: 138270\n end_ms: 139410\n- text: Now you all Common and really conscious\n start_ms: 139410\n end_ms: 140880\n- text: I ain't with that silly nonsense\n start_ms: 140880\n end_ms: 142450\n- text: I really pop shit\n start_ms: 142450\n end_ms: 143810\n- text: My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n start_ms: 143810\n end_ms: 145630\n- text: I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n start_ms: 145630\n end_ms: 148410\n- text: On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n start_ms: 148410\n end_ms: 150770\n- text: '[Crooked I:]'\n start_ms: 150770\n end_ms: 151590\n- text: I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n start_ms: 151590\n end_ms: 153190\n- text: I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n start_ms: 153190\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 157820\n- text: Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n start_ms: 157820\n end_ms: 160730\n- text: Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n start_ms: 160730\n end_ms: 163080\n- text: Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n start_ms: 163080\n end_ms: 165450\n- text: Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n start_ms: 165450\n end_ms: 168840\n- text: The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n start_ms: 168840\n end_ms: 171500\n- text: You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n start_ms: 171500\n end_ms: 174090\n- text: I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n start_ms: 174090\n end_ms: 175920\n- text: In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n start_ms: 175920\n end_ms: 181180\n- text: From Switzerland to New York\n start_ms: 181180\n end_ms: 182250\n- text: I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n start_ms: 182250\n end_ms: 183020\n- text: I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n start_ms: 183020\n end_ms: 184510\n- text: Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n start_ms: 184510\n end_ms: 186920\n- text: Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n start_ms: 186920\n end_ms: 189790\n- text: Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n start_ms: 189790\n end_ms: 194070\n- text: Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n start_ms: 194070\n end_ms: 194750\n- text: I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n start_ms: 194750\n end_ms: 196940\n- text: Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n start_ms: 196940\n end_ms: 199010\n- text: The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n start_ms: 199010\n end_ms: 201150\n- text: That's when the tunnel go black\n start_ms: 201150\n end_ms: 203000\n- text: I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n start_ms: 203000\n end_ms: 205280\n- text: Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n start_ms: 205280\n end_ms: 207460\n- text: It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n start_ms: 207460\n end_ms: 210680\n- text: Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n start_ms: 210680\n end_ms: 212840\n- text: '[Royce Da 59:]'\n start_ms: 212840\n end_ms: 213480\n- text: I hope niggas know\n start_ms: 213480\n end_ms: 214820\n- text: I'll show up to ya show\n start_ms: 214820\n end_ms: 215950\n- text: I'll show up where you go\n start_ms: 215950\n end_ms: 216860\n- text: Show up to ya door\n start_ms: 216860\n end_ms: 217910\n- text: 4's will explode shells\n start_ms: 217910\n end_ms: 219250\n- text: For they hit the flo'\n start_ms: 219250\n end_ms: 220250\n- text: I know niggas know\n start_ms: 220250\n end_ms: 221130\n- text: I got an open window flow\n start_ms: 221130\n end_ms: 222580\n- text: I air shit out\n start_ms: 222580\n end_ms: 223840\n- text: In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n start_ms: 223840\n end_ms: 226090\n- text: Now they call me Clay Davis\n start_ms: 226090\n end_ms: 227820\n- text: Guess why?\n start_ms: 227820\n end_ms: 229440\n- text: Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n start_ms: 229440\n end_ms: 231280\n- text: Cause when it come to them words\n start_ms: 231280\n end_ms: 232550\n- text: You know I wear shit out\n start_ms: 232550\n end_ms: 234430\n- text: I write rhymes like white lines\n start_ms: 234430\n end_ms: 236430\n- text: On the nose tray\n start_ms: 236430\n end_ms: 237780\n- text: Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n start_ms: 237780\n end_ms: 239550\n- text: Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n start_ms: 239550\n end_ms: 242350\n- text: Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n start_ms: 242350\n end_ms: 245570\n- text: Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n start_ms: 245570\n end_ms: 247920\n- text: Hammers stay hummin'\n start_ms: 247920\n end_ms: 248810\n- text: Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n start_ms: 248810\n end_ms: 250610\n- text: Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n start_ms: 250610\n end_ms: 252540\n- text: More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n start_ms: 252540\n end_ms: 255160\n- text: I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n start_ms: 255160\n end_ms: 258220\n- text: Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n start_ms: 258220\n end_ms: 260820\n- text: Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n start_ms: 260820\n end_ms: 263430\n- text: If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n start_ms: 263430\n end_ms: 265820\n- text: Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n start_ms: 265820\n end_ms: 267870\n- text: Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n start_ms: 267870\n end_ms: 269620\n- text: I'm a living anal probe\n start_ms: 269620\n end_ms: 271240\n- text: I'm a lame-a-phobe\n start_ms: 271240\n end_ms: 272540\n- text: Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n start_ms: 272540\n end_ms: 274480\n- text: (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n start_ms: 274480\n end_ms: 276050\n- text: When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n start_ms: 276050\n end_ms: 278390\n- text: Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n start_ms: 278390\n end_ms: 280640\n- text: I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n start_ms: 280640\n end_ms: 283490\n- text: Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n start_ms: 283490\n end_ms: 286170\n- text: I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n start_ms: 286170\n end_ms: 288880\n- text: I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n start_ms: 288880\n end_ms: 291780\n- text: I'm like Marty McFly\n start_ms: 291780\n end_ms: 293810\n- text: Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n start_ms: 293810\n end_ms: 296040\n- text: '[Joe Budden:]'\n start_ms: 296040\n end_ms: 296670\n- text: They say he a bastard for real\n start_ms: 296670\n end_ms: 299360\n- text: Then they see the ass on his girl\n start_ms: 299360\n end_ms: 300070\n- text: So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n start_ms: 300070\n end_ms: 301810\n- text: I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n start_ms: 301810\n end_ms: 305140\n- text: So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n start_ms: 305140\n end_ms: 307020\n- text: Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n start_ms: 307020\n end_ms: 309370\n- text: I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n start_ms: 309370\n end_ms: 313410\n- text: Endless, move more then 2 inches\n start_ms: 313410\n end_ms: 315550\n- text: My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n start_ms: 315550\n end_ms: 318580\n- text: So end this, or see me manana\n start_ms: 318580\n end_ms: 320830\n- text: Or see the speed of a llama\n start_ms: 320830\n end_ms: 322690\n- text: Underground prima donna\n start_ms: 322690\n end_ms: 323350\n- text: That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n start_ms: 323350\n end_ms: 324160\n- text: With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n start_ms: 324160\n end_ms: 325610\n- text: I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n start_ms: 325610\n end_ms: 330580\n- text: But for us to even beef you should be honored\n start_ms: 330580\n end_ms: 333170\n- text: My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n start_ms: 333170\n end_ms: 335890\n- text: Nah, rewind each line each time\n start_ms: 335890\n end_ms: 338410\n- text: Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n start_ms: 338410\n end_ms: 340800\n- text: When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n start_ms: 340800\n end_ms: 343020\n- text: You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n start_ms: 343020\n end_ms: 346090\n- text: Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n start_ms: 346090\n end_ms: 348860\n- text: I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n start_ms: 348860\n end_ms: 351320\n- text: Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n start_ms: 351320\n end_ms: 354330\n- text: Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n start_ms: 354330\n end_ms: 356550\n- text: Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n start_ms: 356550\n end_ms: 358800\n- text: So ya'll could bump swag like us\n start_ms: 358800\n end_ms: 361610\n- text: But the next time rap's discussed\n start_ms: 361610\n end_ms: 363840\n- text: Add this as a plus\n start_ms: 363840\n end_ms: 364900\n- text: Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n start_ms: 364900\n end_ms: 366740\n- text: And would get up in that ass\n start_ms: 366740\n end_ms: 368220\n- text: But the fags might bust\n start_ms: 368220\n end_ms: 369670\n- text: And since poppin' tags is a must\n start_ms: 369670\n end_ms: 371810\n- text: I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n start_ms: 371810\n end_ms: 374330\n- text: Chicks removing they drawls\n start_ms: 374330\n end_ms: 377020\n- text: Now your crew is in awe\n start_ms: 377020\n end_ms: 379730\n- text: How you ball?\n start_ms: 379730\n end_ms: 380510\n- text: Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n start_ms: 380510\n end_ms: 381040\n- text: You gon' need another processor,\n start_ms: 381040\n end_ms: 382580\n- text: To process it, I'll set it\n start_ms: 382580\n end_ms: 383200\n- text: I said it!\n start_ms: 383200\n end_ms: 383980\n- text: So keep running around hot headed\n start_ms: 383980\n end_ms: 386480\n- text: Till you get hot leaded\n start_ms: 386480\n end_ms: 387950\n- text: Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n start_ms: 387950\n end_ms: 389940\n- text: Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n start_ms: 389940\n end_ms: 392590\n- text: Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n start_ms: 392590\n end_ms: 395240\n- text: All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n start_ms: 395240\n end_ms: 398310\n- text: With Joe spell, NO L!\n start_ms: 398310\n end_ms: 401090\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 401090\nplain: |-\n (Feat. Joell Ortiz, Nino Bless, Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9\")\n\n [Joell Ortiz:]\n I define gutter, everytime I rhyme I climb up another notch\n Hip hop got my spine smothered\n But I'll be fine brother\n My mind hovers above all you jive suckers\n Listen, that's word to my mother\n You throw a shot at me\n I'm throwing a shot back\n Your's is on a joint\n Mine's whistling by your top hat\n Ya I'm cool but you violate and I'll cock back\n Open the mac's mouth and black out like I do not rap\n I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin\n They fifth is lyin in they second drawer\n Next door to some bullshit they ironed\n Ya'll be makin up stories that them little kids be buyin\n I do everything my Penn State like a Nittany lion\n I ain't gotta mention the streets on this song\n To get in a nigga ass on these beats like a thong, pause\n Veterans co-sign me, the up and coming scared\n The pretty girls go? gPapi here's my underwear...\n Never in a hundred years I thought I'd be a rapper\n But in less than a hundred bars I knew I'd be a factor\n I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is plasma\n You're Atari 2600 with a weak adapter\n Between us the gap's so crazy\n I'm Gucci, Louis V, you're Gap, Old Navy\n I get coochie in the V, you attract no ladies\n You're suburb, I'm gutter where it make cat's go crazy\n\n [Nino Bless:]\n Fuck a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's sucessor\n That term's done fucka, what up whatever\n You bird's is food\n I'm about to pluck some feathers, I'm young and clever,\n Plus, clutch under pressure, yup! who does this better?\n Walk around with metal all on me like the front of Shredder\n\n I lust for cheddar, you owe me\n Leave holes in your vest that'll open your chest like a sunken treasure\n I'm somethin' like a phenomenon\n Droppin' bombs for fun then dining in hell during Ramadan\n Whatever I'm rhymin' on, or whoever I tear em apart\n Swear on my pops, no fear in my heart\n Shit, been through it all\n Done swam with the sharks, snapped fins with my jaws\n I'm all that, and a bag of the baddest piff\n Off a brick of hash mixed with acid hits\n Like sick cracker shit\n Get back dumb birds I ignore the hype\n Click clack, Yung Berg if you flossin ice\n Dog, cross me twice, can't afford the price\n It'll cost you, I'll off your life\n You soft, I told you I'm raw white\n When I'm on this mic, the mourn at Knight\n Don't wanna see mornin' light\n And I feel like I'm forced to fight\n When the chips are down like Ponch fallin' of his bike\n Of course my metaphors are type awesome, right\n I got em in awe, my aura's Jordan like\n What's really poppin', who's diddy boppin'\n You was a willy\n Now you all Common and really conscious\n I ain't with that silly nonsense\n I really pop shit\n My gun stay cocked like Biggie's optics\n I stay evolvin, but grown bitter\n On your grave they carvin? gfucked with the wrong nigga...\n\n [Crooked I:]\n I don't write I kill a pen leak his blood on the page\n I breathe bars, like oxygen locked my lungs in a cage\n Instrumentals get fucked on the stage, a pedophile\n Unless I dig in the crates, and fuck with somethin my age\n Forever vow to never smile when I'm at peace\n Only when I'm eatin' the deceased like kiesh\n Only when my enemies eternal organs are a smorgasborg in the feast\n The dahmer with melanin and let em in the belly of the beast\n You'll be missin' till fisherman see your corpse\n I'll be in Michigan stickin' a chickin\n In my Michelin ready to pigeon pitch again\n From Switzerland to New York\n I was whippin' Bently's before them pictures up in the Source\n I'm a gorilla behind these bars, on some zoo shit\n Shoot you while you're talkin, on some news camera crew shit\n Sicker then flying in past tense, on some flu shit\n Day old asshole flow, I drop new shit\n Exclusive, you don't want it in fact\n I'll have the doctors operating on the front of your back\n Tryin to keep your stomach intact\n The spiritual you, leavin your body he don't wanna go back\n That's when the tunnel go black\n I'll send your soul to the atmosphere\n Fuck outta here, and your ring tone rap career\n It's Crooked I, the face of east side Long Beach\n Put your ear to the street, so you can hear my heartbeat\n\n [Royce Da 59:]\n I hope niggas know\n I'll show up to ya show\n I'll show up where you go\n Show up to ya door\n 4's will explode shells\n For they hit the flo'\n I know niggas know\n I got an open window flow\n I air shit out\n In the D' they used to call me Mayor Royce\n Now they call me Clay Davis\n Guess why?\n Shiiiiiiiiiieeett\n Cause when it come to them words\n You know I wear shit out\n I write rhymes like white lines\n On the nose tray\n Ice cold, Ice Cube flow like O'Shea\n Riding shot gun with Chris Martin my DJ\n Not the white boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay\n Forever stay violent, better stay silent\n Hammers stay hummin'\n Like strummin' the mandolin or violin\n Speaking of, I done played into the violence\n More then my nigga Charles Hamilton played Sonic\n I wrap niggas up, clap niggas up, scrap niggas up\n Either that or we gon' slap niggas up\n Dump dirt on you right before I go into my Maino mode\n If I smell the scent of Yung Berg on ya\n Till it ain't no more, ain't no dough\n Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed\n I'm a living anal probe\n I'm a lame-a-phobe\n Matter fact my nigga Jumpoff can I keep goin?\n (WHY THE FUCK NOT!)\n When I was a teen, I used to pack a .380\n Now I'm spittin', sittin' between Shady and Jay\n I pull da jeans down on my bitch and then wave\n Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't shave\n I leave the booth smellin' like somebody ain't sprayed\n I would talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy\n I'm like Marty McFly\n Goin back in time and dissin' his momma nigga you can't fade me\n\n [Joe Budden:]\n They say he a bastard for real\n Then they see the ass on his girl\n So they wonderin', why he so mad at the world\n I take it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it\n So even to the producer it's hard to I.D. it\n Bars tremendous, it's in your best interest\n I insist your men just, do your best Bish's rendish\n Endless, move more then 2 inches\n My blood'll boil like I got a big skin cyst\n So end this, or see me manana\n Or see the speed of a llama\n Underground prima donna\n That ain't hard to find popppin' E in a Honda\n With hands like E. Honda, he a monster\n I love war it's like my pet peeve kinda\n But for us to even beef you should be honored\n My dick gettin hard, I see vagina, PAUSE\n Nah, rewind each line each time\n Speak mind and meet 9, mano e mano\n When it rains it pours grab a teflon poncho\n You now fuckin' with Mouse, the head honcho\n Nigga I could fit your house in my condo\n I walk around like ratchets been legalized\n Just me and the desert eagle, and the eagle eye\n Closed casket, now you having a box, wait\n Zipper over your head, dude's calling you crotch face\n So ya'll could bump swag like us\n But the next time rap's discussed\n Add this as a plus\n Don't nobody hit the pad like us\n And would get up in that ass\n But the fags might bust\n And since poppin' tags is a must\n I hit the bank and all I do is withdrawl\n Chicks removing they drawls\n Now your crew is in awe\n How you ball?\n Your jewels from a cubicle in the mall\n You gon' need another processor,\n To process it, I'll set it\n I said it!\n So keep running around hot headed\n Till you get hot leaded\n Till everything but your torso on you is prosthetic\n Digest it, niggas is pie-thetic\n Rap what you can't afford, ya'll must got credit\n All you gotta know is Crooked I, Royce, Bless & Joell\n With Joe spell, NO L!\n"}]