Artist: Slaughterhouse Album: 2013 BET Hip Hop Awards Song: The Slaughterhouse Cypher Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Joell Ortiz] I been here before and I don't mean the last cypher I'm a pen and pad sniper When y'all make it rain it make your lil' stash lighter When I make it rain you drivin on tough terrain in a lemon with bad wipers I hear all the noise like mad bikers Hip-Hop makin a big stink like if Shaq had diapers Bunch of half-ass liars with mad hyper reactions to the, backpack writers But the pack's back tigers Be a hyena that laughs at lions Let you body somethin then I snatch that, try him And a left hook'll send your lil' snapback flyin Put you birds in the dirt, like I sacked Matt Ryan I never tried to be cool, it's just finesse But as a man there's a few of y'all moves I must address Not tryna judge but ooh I must confess I never thought I'd see hip-hop dudes under a dress But back to me, I'm smooth, one of the best Better than you, two letters from "U" up on the chest But no red cape - just redbones in Red Bottoms high ready to shred weight to the Redman "Red" tape If they see how the god rollin Gold 7 and the +Kar-dash+ crack like Lamar Odom Ha, you hear the bars that my squad holdin BET thank us again for another hard moment YAOWA~! [Crooked I] Uh, now my father might try to call me after seein this show I only answer my smartphone for people I know Dummy; probably a janitor, father like son The cypher is full of crumbs, I'm just sweepin the flo' Hold up - 'Pac, Big and them, Nas, Eminem, I'm your synonym War sentiment, tore ignorant rappers with poor penmanship Unloadin my clip in full increments Leavin you on your condominium floor twisted with torn ligaments, born eminent The boy killer for more Benjamins or dividends Warn women and, warn children and Tell 'em this Californian born citizen is gettin rid of them illegitimate rappers cause they more feminine than women that bore children and they more feminine than George Zimmerman Shout out BET, for all the airplay My old job is bricks under the stairway See I ain't one of them rappers rappin about they trappin Really ain't trappin, I put work in the streets, I'm murkin the beats e'ry day Mm, my conversation is old - but I wanna walk in every BET cypher and murder every rapper spittin, call it hip-hop population control Hashtag FOH, they wanna crucify Crooked I, why? Cause I'm bossy But I'm so street, look both ways before you cross me Kill 'em all is what I came to do I'm +Black Entertainment+ smackin you white entertainers too House Gang mean anybody can get it I got bands for anybody who wit it I'm the best, no theoretical motion In alphabetical order I slaughter every rapper and since I'm strictly West Coast then I jump his head in the ocean Pacific Ocean, the specific ocean, I'm sippin potion Listenin to you rap, you ain't sayin nothin You talkin bread stuntin You talkin red buttons, I'm pushin a red button And all my, weapons goin Karrine Steffans, that mean they +Head+ huntin Homie you garbage You probably learned to rap at ICDC college [Royce Da 5'9"] Slaughterhouse, state of emergency Bars for days, Mardi Gras, Bourbon Street Silencin this 9 so no noise flash out Shout out to Big Sean and Doughboyz Cashout Shoutout to {?}, 9-9 I been rapin his pocket From doin me I stayed in the pocket Now all I'm tryin to do is give Halle Berry a baby today then I'm outtie tomorrow, after that maybe Drake can adopt it Y'all missed me with your "Who the hottest?" list Only demand that I got is I ain't sharin no spots I'll light your baby mama house on fire while she in it then turn around and tell her now it's apparently hot The McClaren is dropped I was ridin shotgun with Em 'fore anybody compared him to 'Pac They don't call us the return of the House for nothin, we takin real estate back Seal a fate faster than a gas masked manic with his face wrapped in a plastic pillowcase, in a safe trapped Killers stay strapped any place, leave a rapper with the Leno face flat That's the penalty, I went away and came back like smack on the interstate My mental state, winner take all You 'bout to +fall+ tryin to see the +winter+ break Wish I could take all of that Gucci out my closet and that vest that Joey wore on that show on that dinner date, and shoot it until it disintegrates You think I fell off? Then you either out of yo' mind or inside of yo' mind lookin out of yo' blinds countin my truths While I'm out at yo' momma house sippin the fountain of youth I'm nice~! [Joe Budden] I ain't with the chit-chat, punch me I'll show up where you live at pitch black Both of y'all can relax when it kick back Try to run like that'll give you the right of way I'm quick on my feet, I can moonwalk sideways God-like flow, Jesus rappin House Gang, G's is rappin, he's just yappin All that beef and scrappin - like Miley Cyrus twerkin Somethin's supposed to be shakin, I just never see it happen Got another chick that'll try to get cute Not a dime but she shoot, and her vines never loop But she'd suck the whole group if she ride for the night And turn Slaughterhouse into City High for a night Forget where the Ruger put, your crew is shook Ahead of my time, get you hit now from a +Future+ hook If lyrics matter we will spare the matter But none of that is important cause what you wear is a factor And it's gettin me upset, riddle me for a sec Literally unimpressed with who y'all pick to be the best So if I'm choosin where to aim it'll be his head just to kill whoever's nice, now chivalry is dead It's either you or me Since he +Love Hip-Hop+ I'll have Wale say spoken word at your eulogy Joey, Team Shady, Slaughter dudes When you talk about the best rappers it's rhetorical