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Slaughterhouse
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1
[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
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I'm stressed out so much I'm like, "Why stress it?"
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Am I selfish for asking myself
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"Would you rather count money or count blessings?"
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Now that's a wild question
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Fame turned my life upside down
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I guess it was meant to be like passing Beyonce a Tic-Tac
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And that ain't a diss, this way more to me than a diss track
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Jay-Z is God to me
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Nas is God to me!
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Eminem is like B.I.G. and Pac to me
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And if you disagree I hope you bleed hypocrisy!
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And this will be the realest shit I ever wrote
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Shoutout to all the crazy bitches I've been involved with
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Thank y'all for making my wife a crazier bitch than y'all bitches
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Y'all might've lost me, but y'all win
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And this will be the realest shit I ever wrote
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Now let's talk about the BET Awards
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When Kanye went to the podium for the win
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And mentioned everyone in the same category as him but me and Em
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He said they motivated him
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And normally that would be ammo to hate on him
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But that ain't my M.O! My M.O. is to be mo' motivatin'
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This new-wave culture is so cultivatin'!
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Where the *** do I fit in?
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And this will be the realest shit I ever wrote
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I succumb so much to this game I feel sorrow
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I answer more questions about the 40 and Game squabble
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Than I answer questions that I ask myself
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"Are you a good father?", the answer's, "Well
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*** this! Royce got a game tomorrow"
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I ain't gotta spell out the offers
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If being famous means speaking to people in offices
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Over being there for your sons and daughters...
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I'm off this...
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I know the last couple of lines kinda fell out of the pocket
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But I don't give a ***! Let me tell you this:
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When was the last time you copped some shit
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Where it actually came out of your pocket?
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Answer that! If I got to answer questions from you
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You got to answer questions from me!
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I'm ***ing my whole life up for you, answer this question:
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"What the *** are you doing for me?", answer that!
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Still I love my fans, even though y'all looking at me like I'm just a drunk
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nigga
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That's just throwing up behind shit, blowing up, but nigga I ain't throwing
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up shit but my hands
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And this is just me growing up
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Courtney Artesia, Kino and Vish, please support me I need ya
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But in reality an artist is supposed to be supported by easels
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But in the meanwhile, I'm just supported by evil
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[Verse 2: Joe Budden]
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I'm no longer fckin' amused
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I mean I addressed this shit on "Cut You Loose"
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How long am I supposed to stick around for this ***in' abuse?
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Every time I go to leave, I figure "*** is the use?"
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I endure it for the true fans that covered that new
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Or is that just another ***in' excuse?
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Do I do it for attention cause I crave it, I won't mention it, I'll save it
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If you know me than you know a nigga treasure anonymity
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Nigga thought that as a man, you must be kiddin' me
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And I'm starting to feel like my fans are now condemning me
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Listen, I don't owe y'all shit
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Same Joe I am today is the same Joe y'all get
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Y'all will interrupt a nigga while he at his place of worship
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And think that came along with your 20 dollar purchase
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You bought the music, not the nigga that made it
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But let me touch up on that nigga that made it
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If you're judging me on actions then I'll take that L every time
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If you include "Joe Budden is a corny mah'***er"
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Cause all it mean if I'm a corny mah'***er
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Is the greatest rapper ever's just a corny mah'***er
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My bad, I'm not as street as you
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But all this time I was being me, not being you
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I get behind that mic, let all my demons through
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Without knowing shit about the people that I'm speaking to
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Add that to me not seeing a reason to
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And that says a lot in a room full of silence, listen...
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At 21 I had a drug problem
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At 31 still drugs is a problem
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But the thing about that pill is it made everything real
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And I felt I needed to see
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Funny thing about it all, I ain't like what I saw
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Now the lord's voice is in my head like
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"You'll be DEAD soon for questioning me"
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Another lesson for me
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For I grade it and whatever I profess it to be
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Cause if left to me, I'd put our eyes in our brains
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We'd over-think what we see and our whole lives would change
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But *** it, that day had to come
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Who ever knew that I would have a son?
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I coulda guessed it, I was ***in' like a rabbit
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But I never saw him handle scoliosis like his dad did
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Never knew me and Ronnie would talk again
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*** a rhyme, I'm just happy that we talk again
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Who knew that the second I acknowledged you
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You would get terminally ill, be in the hospital
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The thought of you leaving is what ***s with me
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I'm scared to death of getting full custody
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Nigga, I look in the mirror disgustingly
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So how am I supposed to feel the day that he looks up to me?
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I always said you were the worst baby-mother
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I had ex-girl confused with baby-mother
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And there lies my problem with our Creator
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All the times I wanted her black ass dead, you wouldn't take her
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Don't do it now, I need her
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Understand, it don't get no realer
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See how I go to bed with thoughts of a damn killer
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But rather show y'all my girl through these Instagram filters
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Look at her, don't look at me
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Cause if y'all judging, y'all would throw the book at me
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Speakin' of shorty, nah, I'll do that in private
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It might be a little soon for me to let her know how I get
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Shit, and now we right back at one
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Real quick, let me get back to my son
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When a nigga was like...
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He said "Dad, I'm weird... but I don't have a problem with that"
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And I was like... I laughed, and I was like
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"Well, number 1, why do you think you're weird
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And number 2, why don't you have a problem with that?"
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And he looked me in my eyes and he was like...
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"Well, I say I'm weird, number 1, because I know I'm weird
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And I don't have a problem with it because that's me
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And whoever don't like it, they don't have to be around me
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I'm comfortable with me and who I am"
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And right there, that was cold
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In my head I thought "That was bold"
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Illest shit about it all, said that at 10 years-old
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So I could die right now...
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I could die right now and feel like he got the most important part of Joe
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Or... better than that...
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I could die right now and feel like he know all he need to know
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Joey
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Royce, what up
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Last night we cried tears of joy
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This morning they were still there
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What's handicap without the wheelchair
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That's what we are, but *** it...
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We'll be the sacrificial lamb for y'all niggas
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Hate it or love it...
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Leave all of that, b, fck it...
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[Verse 3: Crooked I]
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Yeah, man
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I kinda feel where my nigga was coming from, you know
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Both my niggas, you know
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Baby-mom was on WorldStar and shit
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You know, talkin' 'bout I don't take care of my junior
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Me and my nigga straight though
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Yo, my little nigga rap
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I just let it be, you know, cause people get their feelings hurt over other
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shit
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So I just let it go, you know, I ain't have no rebuttal
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But uh... when you grew up ***ed up
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Nobody's perfect, you know, but I'm perfect for this
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This rap shit, man... yeah
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Eastside long beach, Atlantic avenue and hill
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Crooked was a youngster my ghetto attitude was real
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Dumper in the waist in case I had to shoot to kill
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Rocking dumb mics cause I had was stupid skill
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Eastsiders we cypher about a bus bitch
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Some sippin' toca vodka, others had the blunt pitched
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A lot of them niggas died, sweatshirt blood drenched
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Others went to jail, they hit a lick and left thumbprints
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Long beach I salute ya grind
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Even though you think you I sold out you not saluting mine
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I don't come around much, I'm on music's time
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Lost and found I found when I'm broke I lose my mind
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So I hustle like I'm on a hunger strike
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Without a doubt when I cuff a mic
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I leave a body count like the shotty's out
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Cause I'm from a group called slaughter
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Rap better than everybody house
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Now they think I'm in the game and stuntin'
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But I'm like an orgasm man, I came from nothing
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Some of you from the burbs but you claim you wasn't
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So lame you struttin', the cain you frontin'
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*** all that, if I was born rich I would rhyme about it
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I was born poor in a ditch, I'm rhyming tryna climb up out it
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Tryna avoud a life of crime I'm 'bout
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Some say I'll be fine without it
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But I kinda doubt it
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Death around the corner, prison breathing down my neck
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Chasing paper til a nigga wheezing out of breath
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IRS wanna *** me, I ain't even outta debt
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Said they Young Buck me, tryna squeeze me outta checks
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Yeah, them fools tryna squeeze me outta checks
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Don't talk to dominic's unless you pay ya mommas rent
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With marijuana sent outta town, them dollars spent
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My own fam wanna grab the steel and harm me
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But I got the nuts to kill an army
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Word to Killa army, man all them killers adore me
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BET red carpet, the steel was on me
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To put a slug in my flesh and blood wouldn't feel good
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Serena crip walking at the Olympics I'm still hood
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Still me, til my candle is blown
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So many secrets I only told to a glass of patron
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Half of my fathers family died of cancer alone
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He called me sick, I didn't answer the phone
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How does it feel to know that your son doesn't care
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Cause you wasn't there, life wasn't fair
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I look at steps in the wrong direction, another stare
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Yeah mutha***a yeah
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I swear, just the other mutha***ing night dawg
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Like niggas, niggas rolled in front of my studio on my kids life
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Nah'mean, I ran through the ***ing studio to my office grabbed that 3.57
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thang man
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Came out waving, I'm bout to bust, the police pass by
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My little brothers told me I needed to chill
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Nah'mean, this is what I do man, this is the life I live for real dawg
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This ain't no mutha***in' rap music
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Just the other night I coulda killed a nigga man
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Nah'mean, I wouldn't be here rapping about this shit
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Think about it man
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[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
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My grandmo***eft me, father don't exist
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Baby moms stress me, my momma got a cyst
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My older son love football and the little nigga hands is mean
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But he chronic asthmatic so he fully suited on the sideline wishing he
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could be in there but still
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Cheering for his team
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My youngest son got nervous, sometimes he cry to me
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I'm looking at him like it's not you fault
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You was conceived when daddy was such a slave to his everyday anxiety
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I worked at UPS for a week and my boss ain't have to fire me
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I wasn't fit to lift boxes I quit
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Don't put me in that box when I spit
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My life wasn't too mutha***ing fly for me
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Wasn't too mutha***ing fly for me
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From the lobby huffing and puffing running from robberies
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To Crooked I, Royce Da 5'9〃, Joe Budden, homie from the Goodie Mob
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and me carving artistry
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Celebrating escaping poverty
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Ashy knees and no socks
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Chinese outta hocks but that was on the first, other than that
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Liver works and government sent me yellow cheese in box
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Ya'll ain't have that yellow cheese in a box
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Last night I cried tears of joy
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But the other night I cried tears my boy
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No longer here I can't hear his voice
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I guess upstairs they playing dealers choice
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Popped a pill with Joe I'm sippin' clear with Royce
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Crook light a cigar nigga
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My little homie just hit the pen
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Went in a younger dodi, came out a senior citizen
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And them crackers just denied me
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*** dawg I can't even sneak a visit in
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I ain't hustlin' no more if y'all listening
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Ya'll niggas only get the music man
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Ya'll know what be going on with a nigga day to day
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I mean shit I ain't complaining or nothing
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Like a nigga stand on his own two and hold it down
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But it's realer than you think nigga
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You think I give a *** about a rap list
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I just left my condo, hopped up in my car I'm on my way to *** an actress
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I don't need y'all to remind me bout my pen and pad gift
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And how my ad-libs subtract your wack spit
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Multiply my visits to Chase divide my among 4 other niggas
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Who spazz quick
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Nah nigga this ain't no rap clique
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This is a mutha***ing takeover
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I want another Range Rover
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I got such a hangover celebrating the fact my mother become sober
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My uncle fading from that needle though
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Found out he fully blown a couple weeks ago
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My aunt tested negative but it's the same result
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But she gon die on the same day he stop breathing yo
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To know me ain't to love me
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Nah, to know me is to know me
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Cause you ain't got to like me but respect that I ain't phony
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Not a nominee for Yony's or Oscars for my uh balony
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Wat you see is what you get
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Hope you getting what you see cause what you seeing is a threat
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Come at me with indirect's, I ain't gon write a song about you
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I'mma knee you in your neck
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And write a song about how I just beat ya to death
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Don't play with my little niggas
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I'm just a grown ass man tryna feed my family through the talent God gave
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me
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Honestly I don't care if you hate me
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But don't *** with my money
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Anything else I say will be dry snitching on myself, how dumb would that be
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House gang
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YAOWA!
SLAUGHTERHOUSE - FULL [UNNERFED]
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