*Freestyle over 'Brooklyn Go Hard' by Jay-Z
[Intro] [Royce talking]:
Slaughterhouse movement. Y'all n***as ain't with us then what the f** is y'all doin'? b**hes!
[Crooked I talking]:
Yeah Brooklyn go hard. So does Long Beach. Uh
"Brooklyn we go hard, we go hard"
Crooked he go hard, he go hard (ya love hip hop)
Crooked he go hard, he go hard
We still love this sh**. What's up my n***as? I gotta re-educate my young n***as. It's ya boy! 20 and under. We bout to flip this sh** over again. Listen
[Verse One] [Crooked I]:
I grind hard, treat a cop like an irrelevant wuss
So many pounds in the trunk call it elephant kush
You evidence givin' Sammy Gravanos, couldn't step in my Ferragamos
Even if you threw 'em at president Bush
I'm back
To start my controversy then pa** to Rick Warren
Whup a**, you ba*tards spit borin'
You have to get quaran-
-tined, from the wack disease
I lean back with ease, S-Cla** with six warrants
Strapped with deez
Guns costin' an arm and a leg like amputees
I go hard
And I ain't tryin' to say nothin' to rappers gettin' money
But I got a message for west coast DJ's
With C.O.B. in the club, I better hear some f**in' 'G-Thang'
And I don't wanna hear no auto tune if it ain't T-Pain
Wait, I like that 'Ye sh**, I must admit
You other n***as...nah, f** that sh**!
The miseducation of this generation for revenue
They missed innovation, this information they never knew
Why I gotta dumb down?
Take a look at my house n***a
I'm in my master bedroom like a house n***a
Your crib on the hill ain't f**in' with ours
I'm so close to the Little Dipper the stripper
I'm f**in' her nipples is touchin' the stars
Nah, I ain't flossin' in a recession
I'm talkin' to rappers f**in' off our profession
If I can't spit bars and still live large
And still whip cars, I'm k**in' who's in charge
Even when I drop simple sh**
The most intricate j**els are in every line
I just hide 'em behind the instruments
Instrumentals
Maybe I'm sentimental
Bumpin' Nas when I'm in the rental
I'll k** a pig, come visit me cause I'm in a kennel
Gangsta rap
I'm gangsta plus I rap
Strictly coincidental
I grew up around Crips with prison tats
Dealers who made a k**in' in the hood but they ain't givin' back
But they come to my show, I gotta give 'em that
They will kidnap n***as dissin' my fitted cap
Long Beach
n***as doin' drive-bys in hybrids
You like a dick in a dykes privates
You never go in
I go all out
Pull a sawed off out
Make you go the alternative route
I mean Fall Out
Boy
Y'all know who I am
I'm ill as yellow sneakers fam
sh** god damn
[Verse Two] [Royce Da 5'9"]:
I'm a from a grimy city, from a bunch of miles away
With no regards for the laws, I'm from a sovereign state
From a murderous block
Swervin' in a convertible drop
Makin' sure you heard my proverbial plot
I'm tryin' to take over the world like Pinky The Brain
My dream mistresses is a b**h like pinky with brains
Or Roxy Reynolds, I stick dick into her
She s** co*k for livin', tongue kiss with Murs
But I don't feel anger
So like the frame of the nickle plated chrome 4-5, I'mma still bang her
Original renegade, n***as still afraid
Mo' n***as follow than Ashton Kutcher's Twitter page
Chowder time, y'all write, I sprinkle powder lines
If Kelly beat his case, my lawyer gon' swallow mines
So put your nines on the crap table
You life gamblin', I'm patron sippin', signed to black label
Champagne wishes become realities
Bad b**hes fly minus the travel needs
My dick is the biggest thing on my anatomy
I diss n***as for nothin' like why you mad at me?
Nickle is definitely still reckless
The last n***a done got k**ed that made me feel threatened
Who really cares what a rapper talkin'?
The only feelin' that ain't familiar is after losses
I shoot Edo G in the head and go back to Boston
With a trunk full of white, we call it Asher Rothin'
Feel honored if I talk about your a** often
You should wanna sleep in the bed I was jackin' off in
There's a reason these motherf**ers are backin' off him
He Floyd Mayweather, Paul Williams and Chad Dawson
All rolled up in one
His money trash talkin'
Amongst bosses, chillin' out in the cash office
n***a you testin' the one, Nickle second to none
I'm hotter than Texas at three, I'm effecting the sun
I don't just sound raw
I'll disconnect your sh**, have you walkin' around with Bobby Brown jaw
And then Whitney said crack was wack
And it offended me like, floozy
Why you dissin' my music?
And you can ask Proof
We come from Chopper City
Minus the wack suit
And the beef with Ness
Forever inhalin' the smell of that sweet success
That Khaled coke talkin', sayin' "We the best!"
I'm a fan teaser
This b**h said, "Who the f** died and made you God?"
I said, "Jesus"
I'm in the zone, I feel like a star
And n***a you know what to do if you feel like a frog
Go and jump in that traffic
You playin' Frogger
I ain't no blogger
I'm Mr. Rearrange Your Aura
n***as thinkin' all I got is internet soldiers
'09 is the fear year, respects over
The O.G.'s taught me how to do it one way
So I ain't down for no games unless it's gun play
n***as will murder judges
Over murder grudges
I don't put money on heads, I just refer to cousins
I drop dope records that's hot like a furnace
The needle on that record player is hypodermic
They feed food from an intravenous tube
k** your a** in private, between me and you
I'm sick enough to go up in your house
Sick of them rhymes, I spit 'em and throw up in my mouth
You f**in' around with the Slaughterhouse conglomerad
Like catchin' your parents f**in', I'll leave you traumatized
The beef lives till the drama dies
My daughter can get struck by lightening if I ain't down for homicide
You don't believe in me, you an atheist thug
My b**h p**y delicious as the Flavor Of Love
f** what they say
I tattoo your face
Danger, but it ain't For The Love Of Ray J
I got a Carhartt, I call my penis Dickie
Before I let you bullsh** me, I let Serena kick me
And she got thunder thighs
I can just be so Heartless
I can give you the business but I ain't from the Chi
A product of the boards where Berry Gordy records
I'm talkin' A-1 yola that's totally pure
I flow bodies of waters, dead fishermen haunt me
I got the temper of a trigger, the dick of a donkey
I'm a soldier boy
Yeah, I'm the last breathin'
No need to turn on my swag, c'mon I'm swag sleepin'
Y'all flows are old, y'all sound like last weekend
I'm Marty, Delorean party with a bad 'Rican
[Royce talking]:
Slaughterhouse in this b**h n***a. s**a free, f** a b**h n***a
[Joell Ortiz]:
Brooklyn!
Let me get a shot at that, holla back
Down the block from Marcy and Cooper, this guy can rap
Ortiz, I'm an animal, flow sh** sick
Had midgets in the hospital a few blocks from you
Wood Hall, I stood tall in every battle
Hip hop's like football, I'm hard to tackle
I'm from where they clap a mac at you then have a Snapple
The Rotten part of the Apple, abandoned tabernacles
Ten speeds, being peddled by chain snatchers
Good greed, we truck pedal and aim ratchets
If you from my berg you know we insane ba*tards so
On the hottest day we sport rain jackets
Get your brain splattered for a c**aine package
For a little chump change they push your Rogaine backwards
I don't know where you from, but where I'm from it's no good
Better take the back streets to check a chick in my hood