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slaughterhouse - fight klub lyrics

[intro: joe budden]
ladies and gentlemen!
frequency, i present
the new fight club up in this b-tch (slaughterhouse)
we go by the name of slaughterhouse
and we outta here, only one rule
no rule, no rule

[crooked i]
joey, no rules, gunshots, no prob
no jewels, n-ggas say i got robbed
i’m still wearin my bling
and f-ck first cl-ss, i fly standin on virgin america’s wing
nuts hang, knockin down skyscr-pers
take a p-ss, make it rain, i’m the american dream (uhh)
make it rain, i ain’t pacman jones
n-gga, b-lls and my word all a black man owns

[joe budden]
if you in that man’s zone, how you figure to gain?
can’t bowl a 300 in another n-gga lane
better aim, you dealin with a 7-10 split

[crooked i] that’s long beach cause we on some 7-10 sh-t

[joell ortiz]
i’ve been nice since “227” man, sh-t
i am sick and i’m never gettin better, that’s it
(slaughterhouse) give me somethin sharp to sever that pr-ck
like a group broke up i will dismember that clique

[royce da 5’9″]
i’m a veteran, remember that sh-t
we some internet rappers, then why you on our internet d-cks?
we’ll be there when it’s war callin
either we high or we fly or the floor fallin
i’m a tommy gun – it ain’t no best
the rap game like a st. louis versus new york battle, n0body won
a bunch of f-ckin 2’s and 3’s like zone defense

[joe budden]
{-sighs-} please get at dudes ortiz (nah, you beast ’em)
hold up won’t stop, can’t stop, thank pops
hard-headed, gotta hit a wall first like a bank shot
get it clear – a c0kehead’s a thin line
between friend or foe, won’t let this sh-t disappear
this fiscal year i’mma stay hot buzzin
with dudes that help me shoot like a-rod cousin
walk in my shoes and your feet get callous
from jersey city to caeser’s palace
i speak with malice just to make sure the streets get salvaged
real talk, where would all us be without us?
slaughterhouse no fear – too many dudes
tyson chandler tried to leave they team and went nowhere

[crooked i]
like tyson chandler in the past n-ggas on some bullsh-t
royce, tell preme i got a full clip (whoa!)
n-ggas used to run when they saw suge’s face
faster than joey and joell in a foot race
now you ask me where the incident took place
don’t check the internet, check hood sp-ce
you dealin with some intelligent creatures
i don’t touch guns, i draw with telekinesis
no fingerprints on crooked’s mag
i’m mixed with good and bad like the goodfellas and jesus
first biggie and jay made it
i’ll leave a bandana at your murder and make it gang related
the b-tch at the shonie’s told me homie

[joell ortiz]
ortiz, i’m the one and only
pick a spot, i pick apart you dudes who pick a part
this ain’t a movie, i feel bad like lookin at a pic of ‘pac
n-ggas hearts gettin sparked every time i give a arc
to my wrist and it twists like a spliff when i’m sittin in the park
tall corny n-ggas ain’t makin a bigger mark
i’ll boost drugs, what i does got ’em runnin to get a narc
you guppies unlucky, you in a tank with a shark
t–th crooked like my dog who just finished a vicious bark

[royce da 5’9″]
fl!ck a dart through your top hat
weak mc’s you cannot rap; freq’, where the drop at?
now you mad at tahiry cause your -ss ain’t famous
get it n-gga? your “-ss” ain’t famous
quit talkin ’bout me cause ya -ss ain’t dangerous
they call me hustler because my mag game heinous
show up to detroit thinkin +everybody love+ you
and i’mma come and show you that ya -ss ain’t +raymond+
dumbin every line – me f-ckin b-tches
like the cops after a murder, they c-mmin/comin every time
sh-ll-toes and wissam jacket, the contractor
still pushin elbows like a linebacker
and y’all playin – my worldwide b-tches
on my worldwide watch, i call it the broadband

[outro: crooked i]
slaughterhouse!
y’all know what it is man
i know you got that “padded room”, ow!
that motherf-ckin “free agent” comin soon
“street hop”! yeah, hahaha
you mighta heard the rumors
they thought it was, three quarters of the slaughter left
hahahaha, i’m still here you motherf-ckin haters!
yeah {-laughs-}
ay, with friends like mine you don’t need enemies
blaow! you do the math
let me drink this motherf-ckin vodka and tell you one thing
we outta here, owwwww! {-laughs-}
ohhhhhhhhh, shiiiiiiiii-it!

- slaughterhouse lyrics

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