Slaughterhouse
Slaughterhouse - Say Dat Then songtekst
Je score:
(Intro) You got something on your mind nigga? Say dat then (Verse:Crooked I) Well let me say it without worrying if my label o.k. When Weapon Waist wildin out, man give him room Used to have skeletons in my closet, but now they sit in my living room Octomom, I picture putting more niggas in a hole than that bitch's womb The street sweeper's the wicked witch's broom A silver spoon, I never had it I grew up mad at Anne Frank, cause the bitch lived in a better attic (Say dat then) I seen my share static, they say that it made me charismatic Born leader who was born Libra in a foreign two seater with a porn diva Blowin' reefer and pouring liters of vodka Cause the feds freezing a nigga bread I'm drinking thinking they gon' seize me even when I'm dead (Fuck ‘em) Killers in my backyard, in the dark with choppers while I'm sleepin' in my bed Dreaming about Slaughterhouse, droppin' an album that's a chart topper While I got these demons schemin' on my head Even though I'm the realest See, there wasn't enough violence in Menace to Society To show you how Cali killers be chillin' in society And the police, they hate me Longbeach PD probably want to kill Eminem for signing me Cause I was supposed to be a statistic A ghost to me is realistic, my dead homie said ‘say dat then' (Verse: Joell Ortiz) Guess this where I'm supposed to vent, huh? Under scrutiny, all my oppurtunity went, huh? Reality is I had more personality bent, huh? Nonsense! Honestly my conscience is dealing with a constant Conflict with the bullshit I've been doing That I feel sobad about the second after it's accomplished A compass, I need one of those cause I'm wandering in darkness But I see straight, and it feels great being clean around this? Being clean around this? (Say dat then) Being clean around this garbage Two stepping through this garden Full of frozen cold snakes when you a lion, warm hearted Bank account comma, but still get your undergarments from Target With a penthouse apartment, kinda nigga still ready to piss in the elevator And shake the doorman's hand before you go jogging (Yaowa) I'm just a hood nigga, fuck it! But I'm a good nigga fucking after that cat on my tongue But never the cat got my tongue, my nigga (Say dat then) So I could knock the dome off yo neck Get your whole right eye socket broke with a left You could go apeshit, fake prick and take flicks With eight cliques, you still never posing a threat If you gon' say something, say it then (Interlude: 2Pac) Hahaha my biiiig mouth I got a big mouth, can't help it Talk from my heart, real You know what I'm saying? Whatever comes comes (Verse: Royce da 5'9?) You got something on your mind, nigga? I made a living off of rhyming bout just how I feel at the moment Right at this particular moment I'm in that zone where I'm wondering how far I could really get with just my diploma Reflecting on how rap is a blessing Feeling that same feeling before I fucked my first bad bitch that I got right after undressing Feeling like ‘am I about to get this?' In yo head you hear it, that voice of confidence That comes down on you from the heavens like ‘yeah, you bout to get it' Just hope that you don't stick yo dick in a dud Cause that bitch could end up your wife, or your mistress Or that chick the same type as your mistress Or a chick that's just gon' draw your name with a stick in the mud Rather intended or unintended It all comes with a territory, no pun intended I fell out with all of my friends like ‘is it me or is it them?' Angry like ‘Shit, everybody can't be wrong, but a lot of these niggas just can't be right' Therefore, I'll say it's their fault (Say dat then) I fucking plan to, too many hoes out hear niggas done ran through I'd rather roll through the valley and lay low I done fell out of love and back in love again then out of love and back with my spouse more than Halley and J-Lo If she left me, my inner self would shatter I could leave her, cause I'm a selfish addict The problem is, I just don't want nobody else to have her If we split, I consider my health a hazard Or else living in wealth and lavish And as far as these niggas who want to kill me, you never get a chance You a criminal chill with your subliminal twitter rants You bigger than that, you just ain't bigger than me You are literally killing me figuratively I'm busy thinking about who hot and how they bit off me If any one of you niggas jump on me, nobody gon' have to tell you that you should probably get off me And that's off rip, bruh Your contract killers can sign off richer That little beef y'all talking is small things to a giant Like Goliath been drinking that anaconda malt liquor Slaughterhouse, we the nicest four fellas And if that day should come that we should ever part ways It'll just be an excuse for us to reunite at Coachella (Verse: Joe Budden) I heard them words and they stung my ear drum Was told that cancer finally made it through his lungs Some of y'all are blessed enough that y'all have no idea what the fuck I'm talking bout, cause y'all got no experience So incase you hear this verse and think that there's the slightest chance that he'll survive His cancer's on level four, and there's not a five So my mother lose my mother, now my dad is losing his From miles apart, wildest part is that's not the wildest part What's outlandish is I too would want to vanish Alcohol like Uncle Robin I'm blind and taking advantage My aunt's supposed to be holding him down, but she sure to gain Behind his back just took out another insurance claim (Say dat then) Well indeed I will They making all these alterations to his will He can't even play his poker games in peace, y'all gotta chill Like I can't decide if he's dying or y'all rather have him killed I know a nigga's last breath shouldn't be this way And if it was, I would panic too, tell me what's a man to do Playing devil's advocate, none of it's understandable I walk in the house and feel that energy as if it's tangible Well, every rapper got a Cuban on looking like Marx I'm just busy trying to get my Mark Cuban on My Lyor Rick Rubin on, my Nas, Pac, Big, Jay, Em, and fusion on To outrap any movement goin'. Gun on the couch shit Wrong one to be running yo mouth with bars, no VH-1 it's mouse shit If a nigga don't spit crack, go back and stock up No harms, sometimes you got to stir it til it rock up Been broken, been rich, been high, sober Fucked almost every model twice over like I was living my life over These niggas ain't got to like me, but after a decade in they all respect me Shit, they don't even directly indirect me It's cool though, back to business Stacking these riches means caskets in ditches With my Trues on living sacrilegious It's Joe, looking like money all the pretty hoes can't help but look Life gave me lemons, better be what Jordan Belfort took Slaughter la familia, Glocks out over here The schoolboy's with Kendrick, we dropouts over here Uh, no offense cause them my niggas And that list is short, you get the gist I'm sure Joey