Lyrical Murderers

"This is the life, we gone!" -
 "I ain't with the leanin and rockin
 That ain't even seen as a option..." -
 You're nothin without (Focus)
 Woo. Long Beach (lay your seats back)
 New Jersey (turn your speakers up)
 Brook-lyn! Detroit!
 We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers
 Welcome to the Slaughterhouse
 (What you talkin 'bout?)
 Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw
 We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers
 Man, we own these streets
 And the freaks they love us
 We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)
 Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim
 I'm a sniper shootin my way into your lame top 10
 Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem
 Then I bust in your face like I'm fuckin Lil' Kim
 Niggaz better pray to the lyrical lord
 that I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the morgue
 This is how a killer record
 with the double-edged triple syllable sword, I'm iller than all
 Dineri, see I'm a literary genius
 Bury niggaz with words, a cemetery linguist
 Most rappers are comedy gold
 They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of SHIT!
 Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that shady street
 Where the verbal cocaine business and 80's meet
 Where them niggaz is backwards
 I'm ridin with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat
 We them copycat killers, unleashin venom
 Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em
 Lyrics be high quality
 Bitches be givin me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology
 Independently pennin the best words that were ever said
 The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear
 You can't hide, we everywhere
 Now, picture a grizzly standin next to a teddy bear
 Yeah
 Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin yeah and I'm aware
 A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears
 And that's no disrespect to the pioneers
 If we ain't who you tryin to hear
 Somethin either wrong with your eyes and ears
 I came in this game screamin Jers'
 Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge
 Try and run with our wave
 But I'm cool with bein Eddie Levert seein my son on stage
 Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint
 And I'ma be Nate Robinson and back up the point
 Your run's over, run with us or get run over
 I'm here to save this shit, and I brung soldiers
 This is lyrical murder
 Me and every track have a physical merger
 When I stab it in the chest I'ma bit of a curver
 So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished burger
 Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat
 Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare is dope
 Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry a rope
 to hang the piano keys when they hittin every note
 I'm what no beat's able to withstand
 If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big plans
 Listen to this fam
 Slide a little dough out that budget, and hire the instrumental hitman