Slaughterhouse - The Illest lyrics

[Verse 1: Joell Ortiz] Rusty nine getting gully on the roof This so rough, I left my skully on in the booth I drag my tin boots through the gutter with the troops That'll fire at you while you with your mother on the stoop Ain't nothin' nice, filling five cent cups with ice Ass crack stuffed with the stuff that the custies like My flow inspired by po-po riding by Cause little Jojo let the .44 iron fly So expect nothing but heat from me, when the beat ugly I sour dollar spit, ain't nothing sweet money So whoever say Ortiz hungry is lying I'm starving, I'm famine, man I act like I never eat sonny I keep ya head nodding, when the ba** pumping And you can hate cousin, but don't say something And no face muggin', I'm S-H-A-D-Y Slaughterhouse all day, youngin' [Hook: Notorious B.I.G.] Lyrically I'm untouchable, uncrushable Ask your friends, who's the illest [Verse 2: Crooked I] Yeah, rap is in danger Crooked I was born in a California manger God of the West coast, know the flow nice When you're signed to Shady/Aftermath and used to be on d**h Row What if my, gun and I, sing you a lullaby Nullify your skull in 5 seconds by putting a slug inside Run and hide, I'm on some money goon sh** Married to the streets, honeymoon sh**, yeah, f** a bride I'm 'bout to go Van Gogh and I have to reach For slavery guns, that mean I draw a masterpiece I spit darts quick as a spliff sparks Writtens'll kick start, split you in six parts Which part of "I'm the sh** and you a skid mark" did you not get? Put you in a ditch when it's pitch dark, make your b**h s** my dick, clark That's what you get, heard that you a snitch Now get that tattoo that say life, cause you a b**h [Hook] [Verse 3: Joe Budden] I left the mask home to bury something, no disguise It couldn't get more official if it was notarized I won't depend on a j**eler for you to know it's fly Top of the chain of command if I'm playing my hand, then I'm bettin' on override Who think they over I? Hoping they vocalize This ain't even a group, just one real n***a multiplied This'll end brutally if you tryna get fast I put my life on it like it was ma** Better pray that this Vicodin last If not rappers are in danger n***as is in a box, I'm tired of rappers in a Wrangler We'll clap and rearrange ya, but I hate to make my pyschiatrist right And it's exactly what she said would happen with my anger You can't relate to it, how you gon' measure it? Broke, can't treasure it, jokers just embezzle it It's time to separate the realness from the rhetoric I figure one statement from B.I. should help to settle this... [Hook] [Verse 4: Royce da 5'9"] I said I'm gunning for the motherf**ing king Like the historical terrace shot I'm sittin' in a Hilton rich like Paris' pops Spread money around the whole town like heiress twat Compare us not, I'm a terrible terrorist plot You the character Carrot Top, while I'm stomping on barriers 'til my era stops Like a tricerotops; when I'm done roaming this earth Bury my bones in Mariah or Keri's box Who you know answer with gun? Shady's our home We live with the GOAT like Julio from Sanford and Son We're the problem with a problem, got no love for my foes Y'all just wearing red bottoms, I got blood on my sole We are dope, we are postal, we not social On Twitter we block Oprah and Deepak Chopra! Y'all n***as think y'all f**ing with us cause people quote ya singles Yeah right, you making your f**ing point with broken fingers My dreams fulfilled like this cup full of potent tequila That I'm bout to raise up, and toast to dreamers [Outro: B.I.G.] Get your writing crew, get your writing crew And they dopest rhymes, I get up in that a** every time Lyrically I'm untouchable, uncrushable Ask your friends, who's the illest