Slaughterhouse
Slaughterhouse - Weight Scale songtekst
Je score:
[Verse 1: Royce da 5'9"] (Today's agenda) riding with them sodomy sisters Pistol on hip, hip to your pistol The day I bow down to a bitch will be the day I throw a bottle at Rihanna inside of a strip club Leave the booth just to leave a tooth floating around inside of your pimp cup What goes around comes around in the form of karma Nah, that's probably just me riding around your town in a Fisker Penning a rhyme equivalent to a winning lottery ticket Uh, fresh of that weight scale, living a crooked heaven on Earth Giving them straight hell Kick in the door of them awards, wondering where are we sitting Niggas with tight jeans looking like where are they fitting Beware of they writtens It's parallel to an Arab sitting in the terrorist cockpit heading for hell's kitchen I talk greasier than Harold's Chicken Don't cross me I leave scales tipping I'm coming (fresh off that weight scale, fresh off that weight scale Fresh off that, fresh off that, fresh off that weight scale) My bitch curvy as a Persian virgin's features She here to serve me, she here to disturb the reaper I keep bank, speak frankless, word to Ariza I'm fly as a bird and high as the Burj Khalifa I ride with kings, y'all ride with fiends You fraudulent niggas remind me of a ponzi scheme One of y'all niggas was probably cool in school The rest of y'all niggas was clowns, we should call you the Fonzi team I'm hate-prone Niggas listen like ain't this about a bitch like it's a Drake song 'cause my cake long So stay strong 'cause your bitch giving me cheekbone Like Grace Jones using my dick like a payphone But she ain't getting the call back She getting the ball sack, hitting the jaw just where we parked at Quick as a car jack, I ain't tryna be funny I'm tryna be missionary lying on top of my money I'm coming (fresh off that weight scale) [Verse 2: Crooked I] (Today's agenda) what the fuck would I stop for Knowing I need more guap stored in my sock drawer They want an encore when the flow is at mach four King of the jungle no lying, I let the Glock roar And this bulletproof vest is irrelevant I'm telling them look at your melon, I'm nailing a shell in it And the shell is moving right through your melon into your skeleton Then the felon is belling the same pitch the fella was yelling and Police sirens respond to heat firing, I'ma keep firing I'ma flee, I'ma be quiet, I'm a G, I'm a beat tyrant From Long Beach and I'm East Side I oughta, bury you artists like an artifact Serious as a heart attack, Dodger hat, slaughter tats Roger that, all the rap, that's me Can't believe Ice never thought of that, who the fuck brought it back (Fresh off that weight scale, fresh off that weight scale Fresh off that, fresh off that, fresh off that weight scale) Fresh off that weight scale I guess I'm Canibus and Kool Moe Dee, 'cause it's hard for me to take L's I'm tryna make more cake than a bake sale Tell the jakes I'ma make bail then escape 'cause I hate jail All these rappers saying they spitting hard raps Before I buy that shit, show me the Barfax I got a tongue like a sharp ax I got a ton of rhymes flyer than anything launching off tarmacs When I ghostwrite for niggas, I'm speaking through them, I'm really just a ventriloquist A iller lyricst, a hint of ignorance A pinch of militant, a perfect description of what this nigga is Pull out a scale and weigh CDs Then distribute it to the fans 'til they need me I'm a drug dealer so put out an APB The same shit that gave these 80s babies ADD [Verse 3: Joell Oritz] (Today's agenda) pyrex sit in the kitchen feeling your eye sweat Gripping your wrist and watching that pie stretch Pitching to different niggas for figures, never slipping 5-0 tripping, I dip on them through the projects Dope boy mindset, gotta get this money Apply the same grind to this rhyme shit ? pick a pad, pick a pen, pick a track Pick a flow, I pick it apart like a locksmith digging in his nose Sit in the park with the Dre's on, ? gone, heavy to eight long Put brains on pre-K, the shell is a crayon Man I'm just tryna write, please leave me alone 'Cause I ain't tryna fight, I'm a different Iron Mike Bite your ear with a syllable, lay a hook that'll finish you Throwing jabs at you little dudes, my opponents get rid of you Hit my corner and listen to Eminem, Crook and Nickel While Joey fucking the ring girl and this fight is unfixable, uh You rocking with a BQE boy [That BB, QZQs and BB Kings with D-boy?] Today's agenda, flame contenders And have they dame giving brain to they favorite member, yaowa (Fresh off that weight scale) [Verse 4: Joe Budden] (Today's agenda) diary of a mad man Machete Joe? here I am Ain't gotta lie, what you see is what you get, ain't nothing modified Me, I give them the same song, go check with Spotify Don't get the context wrong, I'm the same G Spending old money, y'all swear it was the same G Yea these model hoes cute and entertain me And though I let them go to the head, they never change me Far from innocent Your favorite rapper got a head nod before he approached and check my temperament I wake sleepy hollow, should of done a CT scan Go to Colorado right now and watch Batman So my dad think I'm styling, how when I'm everything he'd be if these new drugs was out then I owe it to holmes, rolling stone But how I wouldn't let a stone roll, wonder why I'm stone cold Problem child to aggravated adult Got bad cards but I ain't blaming my hand, it's logic I hate jewelry and authority the same So how the fuck you think I feel about a chain of command, I'm saying I tell you how you different from I You always hugging the block, I kiss it goodbye Sober, my last drinking game started with truth or dare And ended with me thinking a name So y'all call it out of control, I'm confused when To think that you in something to me is the illusion There's your answer, [verbal smash cancer?] Now the strip club is a basement, I just came in with some dancers House gang, the clan made it Used to be scared of?, thought the klan made it Joey the fan favorite Love then hate it both 'cause I can't fake it And if I did I would never tell I said that all wrong, y'all would never tell I keep the mindfuck tucked for the jezzebelle Even if they help make it shit would never fail Biatch!