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slaughterhouse – back the fuck up lyrics


back the f-ck up

[hook: royce da 5’9″]
what the f-ck are you looking for?
can’t a young n-gg- get money anymore?
can y’all b-ms get funny anymore?
can my life get sunny anymore?
back the f-ck back ‘fore i f-ck you up
ay! back the f-ck back ‘fore i f-ck you up
you better back the f-ck back ‘fore i f-ck you up

i came, i saw
i conquered, i’m a monster
back the f-ck back ‘fore i f-ck you up
you better back the f-ck back ‘fore i f-ck you up

[verse 1: royce da 5’9″]
feeling like the greatest, motor city’s finest
my crew looking jamaican, i’m rolling with the grinders
they calling me old head, but so what the [cards?] young
i set the bar with the bars even though i’m bar none
hot car, top’s off, hot broad, rockstar
watch not flawed, tell y’all to watch dogs knock it off
i’m too pretty to fight, this gonna end fast
my clip long as sinbad’s when it’s on it’s tenth blast
f-ck y’all radio play, f-ck y’all radio stations
long as i’m paid, my lady built like a long-legged alien
if it all ended today, i can honestly say
i performed and recorded with the greatest, word on the chronic to dre
now i’m as polished as obama wiping down a diamond
with the -ss of diamond from crime mob
after she’s had a shiny armani hind-job
i’m a be straight
and you can pick a rapper, any rapper, and line up the date
i’m in a zone where the f-ck is the ref with the whistle?
don’t gotta impress you, i just diss you
the press pretzels the issue
my homie joey showed me the net
and i went and got me a gross net fiscal
i’ll stretch you like the tek is a bowflex pistol
so don’t bet
you would prefer me to be coming with you like phone s-x
with a s-xy electrician whose next mission
is to cut your buzz off if you don’t rap right
i ain’t wrapped tight but i’m just that gift
crack piff, mac spit, cadilac flips
we can match whips, battle rap d-ck
i’d rather have an actress on my mattress
who giving me brain so long she don’t know jack sh-t
but how to do that d-ck
fact sh-t confidence of a fat chick
caught onto fashion from catchin bodies at saxs and fifth
i came, saw, and i conquered, pig gang
y’all talkin i’m chainsawing your tonsils


[verse 2: joell ortiz]
out for lunch with my accountant
back the f-ck back down to chase doing counting
my b-tch back the f-ck back it up when i’m pounding
y’all funny style watching broke-the-f-ck-back-mountain
y’all tuned into the slaughters, the group fathers hate
cause we move in on their daughters, with sh-t news reporters
holding their hand when they trying to get interviews in order
that’s a chico stick mami, come chew me i’m a quarter
of the house gang, call it the crib, mami
these n-gg-s running trying to get in our seat, a bunch of mitt romney’s
but i stand at the podium with the fifth by me
screaming out “yes we can, open yo sh-t papi”
i rap well so i’m a bit c-cky
from maxwell blank tapes with the tissue in it to disc copies
to downloads in one click i’ll be
still rhyming when music is telepathic you can come sit by me
i’ll stare at you with the rawest thoughts
cnn? y’all think news, cnn? i think war report
i say “big l, ” you say “weed”, i say harlem’s boss
a legend i’m repping for him and all that my sport has lost
hip-hop ain’t just a way of life
it’s all i know, it’s what fill up my kid’s cutty day and night
when it got soft, y’all conformed, man i stand to fight
y’all went bathing apes i went ape in my favorite nikes
back the f-ck back bredren
i brought it back when rap was defective, please don’t ask me no questions
friend or foe, speak quick
or i’ll put this foot back the f-ck back where you leak sh-t