yall ready know
Yo, yo— yo, yo—
Yo, yo— yo, yo
This your man Royce da 5'9"
It's your dude Crooked I
Man, it's Jump Off Joe Beezy
Ya—ya—ya—ya—yaow—yaowa
It's Joell Ortiz
Y'all 'ready— y'all 'ready— (uh!)
Y'all 'ready know, it's Sl—Slaughterhouse!
Lil niggas, get your weight up – fuck y'all, pay up
My bars just as slick as my dick and both stay up (ha!)
Nicer than me – say what? Wait up, straight up
I finish niggas right off the bat like a layup (woo!)
I seen a lotta come (come!), I seen a lotta go (go!)
But y'all know where I'm from (where?), B-R-double-O
You know the rest pimpin', yeah, I was bred different
Here come pops with the NY bop, y'know, the leg limpin' (yaow!)
My ice mug frozen till it's stiff (stiff!)
Grimy nigga, might wan' hold onto your bitch (ha!)
I got a way with women, I faithfully play with women (yes!)
Let 'em suck on this bottle and pray that I throw a baby in 'em (ooh!)
I might just throw on my gold fronts
Pour up a cup of E & J and light up a dro blunt
I was never soft, never saw me flinchin' when they lettin' off
Never had to retaliate 'cause I set it off
Y'all 'ready— y'all 'ready—
Y'all 'ready know, it's Sl—Sl—Slaughterhouse!
Y'all know my name, bitch, never change up my language
I'm just a rich nigga from a city that's bankrupt
First, we take oath then I'm pullin' turquoise strings
In my Lebron Corks in Turks and Caicos
I came from wicker chair fame wearin' short sets
I learned that money can't buy happiness
But I decided I'd rather do all my cryin' in a Corvette
Make a dollar, buy a suit, have a child
And have him follow suit, wavin' that weather change thing
Making the winter fall, comin' through with everything to lose
Takin' everything from you know, let him finish his fall in his draws
And pray that he land on that minute hand in my Hublot
I'm about that Art Of War gospel
That Basquiat, Picasso, drawin' a roscoe
Usin' the blood of a usual thug who was told "Die slow!"
Your money on me, bet it all, you know I'ma set it off
Y'all 'ready— y'all 'ready—
Y'all 'ready know (uh!), we're Slaughterhouse!
Let's skip the small talk and get right to the wealth
Truth is, I give a fuck, but it's right to myself
Fuck fame, keep the shit—I write to myself
If what I do is therapeutic, man, the slightest shit helps
Met angel dust my freshman year, gave it a try, cool
Little did I knew, had the wrong meanin' of high school
Teachers called him a sociopath and a liar
Fuck them, only went to class for the cyphers
Now I'm gettin' bills for the same thinkin'
They tried to prescribe pills for, they said I needed a wrench
I'm a loose screw, vital, suicidal
Said I would kill me or more, wasn't speakin' in French
Said I'd let it off, never know who or what you might get
Main reason they never want me to set it off
You now dealin' with four niggas that's never off
All bets are off so nah, y'all won't be better off
Y'all 'ready— y'all 'ready—
Y'all 'ready know, it's Sl—Sl—Slaughterhouse!
Uh, Jewish tats on my arm like a Semitic boss
Egyptian ankh hangin', that's my Kemetic cross
Slaughterhouse set it off, even got bitches wavin' our flag
Betsy Ross, old school Chevy
The head is off, decapitated Impala
Heavy lap from the weight of the llama
Still bear arms like a shaven koala
Higher thinkin' like a faded neurology student
Is prudent when chasin' a dollar
So never mind, a clever rhyme
I'd rather find a better grind, forever times
Sittin' behind me 'cause I'm ahead of mine
In this era I'm livin' outside of the paradigm
I'm comin' outside with a pair of dimes
Sharon and Caroline share a line then they share a 9 inch, never mind
I probably shouldn't even keep goin'
'Cause these rappers keep hoein' with they teeth showing
I set it off
Y'all 'ready— y'all 'ready—
Y'all 'ready know, it's Slaughterhouse!
Yo, yo— yo, yo—
Yo, yo— yo, yo
This your man Royce da 5'9"
It's your dude Crooked I
Man, it's Jump Off Joe Beezy
Ya—ya—ya—ya—yaow—yaowa
It's Joell Ortiz
Y'all 'ready— y'all 'ready—
Y'all 'ready know, it's Sl—Slaughterhouse!