[Royce Da 5'9"]
(Ohh!) Yeah (let's go!)
I said once upon a time in a city that's mine
There was a n***a named Nickel that spit like Big in his prime
He got a 52 box, original tick in the mind
Listening to Pac and them drop with a prestigious design
My n***as is dimes, my b**hes is dimes
I came up behind Eminem in '99 and I took the baton
I been running sh** ever since then, slaughtered MC's
Sit and watching my green grow, like I'm watering seeds
The problem with me is I'm the heart of the streets
n***as calling for peace, they can't even call the police
If I ain't better than you I'm harder to beat
Probably cause I live by the art of for-keeps
I get indicted after my product's released
We a different form, a different centrifugal force
Every line is like gripping on a stick shift in a Porsche
My n***as asked for direction to go on this track
I said fu*k a direction, spaz out! Get 'em up HIGH
[Female] Crooked
[Crooked I]
And for them wack songs that you made
I want you to throw your pin, but hold the grenade
Explode to your grave - and go straight to hell
When your soul is enflamed for the road that you paved
The role that you played, in f**ing up hip-hop
You owe so you paid, the fo'-fo' close to your brain
Closer than the close shave of a low f**ing fade
Don't f** with me, don't f** with J-O-E
With Nickel we gon' make more cheese
Heavy hitter, call me Joell David Ortiz (what up!)
I point a burner at the plaque on your teeth
On some leftover sh**, it's a wrap on the beef
I'm one in a mil', comin' to k**
It's like you won an appeal, my gun put your back on the streets
Spine on the concrete looking at the sun
Eyelids heavy, "Why did Crooked have to come?
He was full of 'gnac and rum, like a bully acting dumb"
Fully-automatic umm, that's Crooked having fun
Listen, don't make a n***a find your dame
And make the dime give me brains 'til my mind is drained
Listen, don't make me grab a 9 and aim
And how your dime did me, do yo' mind the same
But different, the West Coast king Crooked I
I'm a kamikaze pilot, I stay fly 'til I die, get 'em up HIGH
[Female] Joell
[Joell Ortiz]
Here we go again, you know I'm him, Mr. Ortiz
Soon as I hold a pen I co-defend the sickest MC's (Slaughterhouse)
Pick a disease we got it, I vomit sniffle and sneeze
Lyrics squeeze, listen please, Lord help get rid of this fever
I'm like 150 degrees
16's used to be sweet, now they're a bit of a tease
A n***a need a infinite instrumental just to be pleased
Used to dream about livign now I'm living my dreams
The b**hes fiend, made my dick a machine
Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I am just as f**ing big as I seem
When I'm spitting this mean, me and government intervene
A couple presidents, literally live in my jeans
I give 'em residence, they just let me pick anything
When I'm in the mall, they show me the latest kicks on the scene
And I get 'em all, I ball like the n***a I am
n***as hate, b**hes Cheer like Norm, Cliff and Diane
I'm in a state, of mind that should be the fifty first
I run radio, but I don't use them itty bitty words
I ain't shabby with the nouns, I ain't sh**ty with the verb
When I reach heaven I want the n***a Biggie to be like "Word"
City slicker, New York delivery when I swerve
Hold that mic like the Statue of Liberty, I deserve
A shot at the title, Spitter of the Year
E'ry year, let's be clear, put some fingers in the air
And hold 'em up HIGH {*echoes*}
[Female] Joey
[Joe Budden]
Work on your half-court shot, I'm money from far
Get 'em mad, see a ape on your monkey bars
And that's rate, getting hate from the wannabe stars
And that's great, mean he feel it and know he numb
See that bullet coming from around the corner
Like a shot from Angelina Jolie's gun; think Joey the one
I'm a fake? Ain't your run-of-the-mill
I'm from where they k** you for one of your bills
For me it's fun, your man think we evenly sk**ed
He Mel Gibson, all that sh** he believe, gon' get his son k**ed
Play with a match, fu*k what you take it as
No good straight jacket, all I did break the match
They say he talk tough with his fake a**
Four pounds put me in another weight cla**
Great Escape the pad
Took the jumpsuit off my naked a** and ate the mask
You diss me, you wanna be a great that fast?
Take a fully-automatic and spray at gas
Me? Body a whole sh** with a verse probably atrocious
In your whole camp, nobody focused
They say you the Ultimate Warrior, I agree
You die and come BACK, won't nobody notice
Drive by, screaming it's a new crew repping
Hanging out the window, like it's "227"
Get 'em up HIGH
[Fatman Scoop]
Get 'em up high, get 'em up high
Get 'em up high, get 'em up high
Get 'em up high, in the sky
Put 'em up high, put 'em up high
Put 'em up high, fingers in the sky
Put 'em up! Slaughterhouse, Slaughterhouse
Ohh, ohh, Fatman Scoop, Slaughterhouse
Fatman Scoop, Slaughterhouse
Put 'em high, woo! Ohh {*echoes*}