Loud Noises

[Intro]
Loud noises!

[Verse 1: Eminem]
Life handed me lemons, I jumped back in the public eye
And squirted lemon juice in it, by now, you just wish I’d fuckin’ die
But I electrify, get electrocuted, executed by the execution
Of my flow, too quick for the human eye to detect zoomin’ by
Choom-chigga-choom-choom-choom-choom waa
Yep, yep—guess who, what’s happenin’, guy?
They told me to shit, I fell off that pot
Hopped right back on that crapper and I
Said, “Fuck it,” with a capital I, look who’s back to antag-g-onize
You don’t like it? You can eat shit, fuck off, little faggot, and die
You right back like a magnet on my dick grabbin’ at my
Shit, better get to the back of the line
If you wanna get your shot at me, what kinda crap is that battle?
What kind of rapper would I be
'Fore I let another rapper think he’s hot?
I'll bury my face in his stinky twat and go (*Licking*)
Girl, my head space is limited
Ain’t even room in the back of my mind
That’s why I ain’t thinking about you, I don’t got time
I done told you a thousand times
So how can I find the time to put
An alkaline battery in Royce’s back
And at the same time put juice in mine?
Goddammit, Slaughterhouse is signed!

[Refrain: Crooked I]
Slaughterhouse!

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
I’m a menace villain, my pen is sick and spillin’, my lyrics killin’
Then I let you witness shit when it hit the ceilin’
A nigga’s willin’ to give the listeners the sickest feelin’
Like mixin’ some Benadryl and penicillin, then I’m fillin’ the clip
With a written (Pow!), can you picture my pistol drillin’?
A million women and children when I’m illin’ but it isn’t real
It’s a rap, on the real, it’s a wrap, how could you possibly
Stop the Apocalypse when I’m atomic bombin’ the populace?
Shock the metropolis, hostile as a kid
Poppin’ the Glock at his mom’s and his pop’s
Then he hops in his drop with his iPod
Rockin’ his slaughter-ish documentation of lyrics
I write with confidence, write like a columnist-slash-novelist
I’m in this game to demolish it
Establish my dominance over prominent rappers
You poppin’ shit ’til ya opposite, I can spit ominous so spit politics
Now I’m Haile Selassie, Gandhi and Pac
Of this hip hop genre, bitch!

[Refrain: Crooked I]
Slaughterhouse!

[Verse 3: Royce da 5’9”]
Lyrically, I’m a cocaine Altoid (Dope)
Ability so brain, it’s a no brain bow, boy (Fresh)
Physically, I’m literally a cocaine cowboy
Wait-wait, did I just go almost four bars
Without talking about my big dick?
The other day me and your thick bitch
Had a great date and we ate cake
And then we walked and then she tried to jack me off but she lost
’Cause she couldn’t handle my Shake Weight
I swear, the irony of Ryan is I am bipolar while I’m rhyming
Standing beside a big ol’, (Big ol’) white bear
Neither one of us fight fair
You are literally looking at Woody and Wesley
In a movie where the white boy ain’t got to jump
Nowhere ’cause I’m here
Nigga I’m on fire, yeah and I’m every bitch’s dream
One, two I’m coming for you, I’m a big ol’, (Big ol’) nightmare
Nigga, this the slaughter, step it up
I’ll pretty much slap your ass and tell you to shut the fuck up
After that, I’ll slap your ass again
And tell you to shut the fuck up shutting up
And that’s how you body a fucking beat (Goodbye)

[Refrain: Crooked I]
Slaughterhouse!

[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
Uh, I should be the one that goes slow
Nah, get a stopwatch, clock my flow, hit the button on top
Watch your jaw drop, oh-oh, dot-dot, oh, Yaowa
When I drop, I go outer space
Blackout like Darth Vader’s face placed in a molten shower
Say something and get done proper
Mama, Poppa pouring out vodka, mama mia
Em, pass me the scissors
There’s visitors in the Slaughterhouse casa
Better jet, boy, go home, better jet, boy, G4 Chrome
Better jet, boy, Mark Sanchez, Santonio Holmes
I’m not your any old homeboy
Sitting in the lab picking up a pad, I be spitting bad
I’mma get you mad with this gift I have
Little ducks sufferin’ succotash when the trigger blast
I’ma put your beak on your fitted hat
Where the liquor at? Sip a yac bad bitch and a vicious track
I relididax slide Pro-Dools to both
So smooth I coast to the West like where Crooked living at?
New York, here’s a piggy back ride
To the motherland, hold on, brother man
On the other hand, get down, I’m gutter, fam
Gun butt you with the Eagle handle Cunningham
I don’t wanna talk, I just wanna beef, I don’t want a piece
I want it all, baby boy, I don’t wanna eat, I wanna feast
Stuff my cheeks with rough beats and shit
You done, weak, I’m the one, capisce?

[Refrain: Crooked I]
Slaughterhouse!

[Verse 5: Joe Budden]
Uh, insane what they call us, how you married to the game
But you probably shouldn’t have came to the altar
Every bar like propane for the sawed-off
You shoulda hang and they’ll fault ya
Eminem, Mr. Porter, slaughter my sentiments, eminent torture
All of you feminine marauders
They’re swimming that water, men will assault ya
Tommy’s and bats to resemble Lasorda
Kidnap your trembling daughter
At least a quarter, I’m a menacing supporter
It’s got an aura more like Sodom and Gomorrah
Normally, something’s wrong with me
Blame it on quantity of the porn I see on the pawns to me
When I fix the game, y’all think shit came with a warranty
How the fuck are they gonna stop what I was born to be?
Corner me, shit belong to me
Two choices, you can get along with me
Or sit your faggot ass right there in dormancy
Wait, all he missing is heels to be RuPaul
Ain’t nobody that’s real ever knew y’all
And I’m second to none and I’m dealing with bums
Whose time'll never come, now deal with the blue balls
You ain’t gotta fear me but you respect me
Niggas who never met me threaten me, want to Gillette me
Comin’ to a sword fight against a machete
Swinging spaghetti like it’s heavy
Some said he deserve an ESPY, in a Chevy like Andretti
Put the desi where his chest be

[Outro: Crooked I]
Slaughterhouse!