Sound Off-Slaughterhouse

You herbs we merged, we're an alliance We fight fire with flame-throwers, why would you try us? We a outfit, equivalent to Voltron's That boy Crooked I's equivalent to four arms Joell Ortiz is the body The cannibal slash killer, kill you then eat your body Joe Budden is the pair of legs He runs s**t alongside I, the apparent head I am the general, bow now Fuck salutin, I don't really think y'all niggas get it Run up on you with an army it is On 'til it's done, finished You got a problem with any one of my Slaughters Then y'all niggas can come wit it Me and Joey we a perfect fit He likes startin shit, I like endin shit I don't squash the beef, I don't bend a bit, it ain't intricate I'm gon' shoot yo' stupid ass You too could laugh, you gon' die smilin Try whylin I get hostile then I'm violent I don't make threats n***a I promise My style is Stalin mixed with sick lyrics If you hear it it'll lift your spirit Turn your appearance to a disappearance, d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d (ding) I f**k with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f**k with, nothin but my clique Nothin but hot s**t follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f**k with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I put my, money on my clique Hot shit, comin outta the barrel of my fifth I got a raw flow, and I stay hungry more so Guess that's why I'm the torso I pour sweat when I perform shows What I record goes down as the best but the vets won't let that torch go Y'all could keep it, they got flashlights now And flame-throwers, and I got one on my back right now Remain focused, is what I tell myself now and then Don't wanna go back to that block like where Varejao defends Uh-oh (uh-oh) my stomach growls again, I ain't none of you cowards friends Every human out of my sight, before I count to ten One two three four five six seven eight I'm hungry like I never ate Set a table up with knives forks and spoons, I'm 'bout to get a plate All these weak dummies lookin at me like a pepper steak Me and these dudes never separate, we ain't married Yeah but every time I touch a pen I sorta set a date I'll devastate your career, look I'mma demonstrate Let me get a good breath I take before I regulate {*inhales*} Okay (okay) bye-bye you guys, don't try to rhyme Cause line for line what I design is mine and mines, point is I'm divine And I'm right behind the big guy that shines All the light in mine so my eyes can find a nice dime to grind C'mere girl, toma toma, take that take that I f**k with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f**k with, nothin but my clique Nothin but hot s**t follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f**k with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I put my, money on my clique Hot shit, comin outta the barrel of my fifth You rappers chasin popularity by any means doin silly things Buyin too many size 20 skinny jeans The West treat me like I'm really king I'm Pacquiao in the Philippines, illest thing them niggas seen You rappers dressin like you finna sing "Billie Jean" I gotta intervene, f**k you I'mma intervene You loud talkin wouldn't kill a thing Matter of fact, where's your head nigga? I got the guillotine Fuck yo' Hollywood limousine and rented bling I give you three red dots and I call it a triple beam I'll put your pad on your property fag Properly rob you and hop in the Jag If you stoppin the profit the Glock'll be poppin Your body'll rock a colostomy bag Shot in the abs, moms'll be sad Pops'll be mad, doctor be glad Possibly stoppin a plasma droppin Clock runnin out and the outcome bad Any one of you niggas that's F****n with my team Pretty-ass thing with the infra-red beam Sleep on that and get killed while you dream Fuck a rap group, Slaughterhouse a machine Slaughterhouse a regime I'm gooned up if you know what I mean Everybody wanna be down with the king No-no-no-no-no fly zone (no fly zone) I f**k with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f**k with, nothin but my clique Nothin but hot s**t follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f**k with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I put my, money on my clique Hot shit, comin outta the barrel of my fifth My one goal's to astonish Tell the president, V.P. (you could) notify the congress They say I'm arrogant, pompous but I'm honest I tell 'em keep an accomplice away from the accomplished They still makin threats on your highness But I tell 'em where I be, they just ignore the compass I think all your mans' Play-Doh I don't buy that movie "Fandango" Fans they know that what, you a soldier to a general, baby steel Got it in the bag, airtight, Navy SEAL Tell lil' dudes I ain't mad at y'all College kids like Asher Roth Y'all just trying to put food on the table And I'mma just come and try snatch it off If it ain't from me, most young dudes will be angrily But anxiously awaitin bankruptcy Wonder what makes lil' muh'fuckers think they're the same as me I'm synchronized, you and your mens'll die Learn certain s**t you ain't meant to try Got the ground covered with some niggas in disguise Best bet's to attempt to fly Shit's a gang, you down you in for life Fuck y'all I ain't gotta generalize Y'all ain't able to write what the pen describes So when he asked what I meant and why I tell him I f**k with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f**k with, nothin but my clique Nothin but hot s**t follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f**k with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I put my, money on my clique Hot shit, comin outta the barrel of my fifth