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Hammerdance
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Slaughterhouse
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1
[Verse 1: Joell Ortiz]
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My real name my rap s**t
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No made up ***a, I'm straight up, ***a
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I'm still in the projects where I came up, ***a
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On a scaffold doing ten sets of ten, getting weighed up, ***a
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I'm no shooter, but my shooters'll have your brain exposed
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But I'll shoot 5 in a second homie and break your nose
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Talking past, I'm dead a**
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I was living life fast with my pistol in the grass
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Digging in my a** trying to finish up the last so I can sit it in a stash
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On East, wet, dripping from the bag
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Milk crates sitting on the ave
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While I'm looking left and right for the ****s with the badge
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My mom's dishes really had crack on 'em
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Twelve twelves and I kept that s**t packed for 'em
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Yeah they came back for 'em
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I can paint it so vivid cause I really lived it
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If rap fail, I stack bail, and show you how to get it!
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[Hook:]
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I'm in the club
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Bottle in my hand doing my two step
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While I got my gun in my pants, call it the hammer dance
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B*****s dancing on a ***a when they feel the gun
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I tell 'em we're doing the hammer dance
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Two steppin' with my weapon on me
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You good? I'm just checking, homie
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?, you don't stand a chance
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While I got this gun in my pants doing my hammer dance
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[Verse 2: Crooked I]
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In these la Times, I wake up on one
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I drop s**t that make the gangstas go dumb
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Keep a bad b***h naked like my waist with no gun
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I'm for real, how are you?
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Got street power, from the Watts Towers to Howard you
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Flip a thousand pounds of that sour dies- in a hour, dude
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I'm out my muh'fu***' mind
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F*****g punchline, salute my muh'fu***' grind
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Ditching feds on the regular, they're trying to catch a predator
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Not the Chris Hanson type, but the Danny Glover kind
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I'm a killer, everybody know I body your audio
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When a shotty blow, say goodbye to your vado you maricon
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You don't think that I'm about this
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Ice grill ***a, put your money where your mouth is
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[Hook:]
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[Verse 3: Joe Budden]
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My real name my rap s**t
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F**k with Chase, but the real bank is the mattress
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Money ain't new to me, been getting G-stacks
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Since Smoove B took his shawty back from rehab
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Knife work with me, but the chrome is extra
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Case I'm in the same taxi as the bone collector
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Y'all rappin' 'bout models, I get hounded by 'em
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Not a killer at all, I'm just surrounded by 'em
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Just a real ***a, straight from my mother's stomach
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Ain't enough cloth for all of us to be cut from it
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Not decided by who toast led
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Cause all of us would be angels for Pujols' bread
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Lot of hostility, hollering is killing me
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Screaming "Over my dead body," like it's not a possibility
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On my Jers' bullshit, never mind me
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But if it's ever problems, ****s know where to find me
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[Hook:]
Slaughterhouse - Hammer Dance
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