Artist: Slaughterhouse & DJ Drama Album: On the House Song: See Dead People Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com {"You are now listening to AraabMuzik"} [Intro] I, I see dead people I, I, I see dead people I, I-I, I see dead people {"GANGSTA!"} I, I, I see dead people [Royce Da 5'9"] I said, different day, same sick language You a game, I'm a game of Russian Roulette Pain and Kurt Cobain mixed with Bane drenched in purple rain I rearrange your prints, cut ya fingers off Mail 'em to your son's kindergarten class, in a Remy Martin glass Note attached sayin, "Billy call your dad" Signed sincerely, he really caught it bad He clearly could not dial you The alcoholic induced me in a coma, can sleep, the hostile you See murder, my style true, Basquiat, Reebok shoe Our guns ain't comin out, if we not shootin Yours? Yours is comin out with Detox 2 When we shot, woo! We shock Which one of y'all niggaz wanna box the King Cobra? I'll mop ya team sober I'm not stoppin 'til they drop me in a box in a mausoleum Sayin "Here lies an artist with an audience broader than Joselyn's shoulders" Hip-Hop played with the flow, related to poem The greatest to go in, favor Patrˆ„n Maybe record a poem with Oprah and play it back for Raven-Symonˆ© Later niggaz! (Later niggaz) I got a crush on Queen Latifah cause I had a dream we got our fuck on without the Monie love; I'm whylin on these drugs It's just, me and my team and an obscene amount of girls You can eat our dust, we playin ring around the world [Chorus] I said you know, that we are, so crazy (I, I see dead people; I, I, I see dead people) And plus we know (I-I-I see dead people) That we are (I, I-I, I see dead people) So crazy (I, I-I, I see dead people) (I, I, I see dead people) [Crooked I] Yeah, I see 'em too with my +Sixth Sense+, they prowlin while I'm browsin through your housing With the authority to do you horribly, leave you in 8 sections like fixed rent While your bitch bent over extendin my dick's lift Doggystyle literally when she make my cock expand yo And you barkin up the wrong tree again Nothin's three-dimensional, different plain of existence The only role the clairvoyant human being can see me in My theatrics lean, psychiatrics right Like these raps gettin ghost-written By somebody psychopathic, residin inside of my psyche's attic Inspirin rap shit that the coke get in Or it might be acid - constipation, no shit And it might be magic, that's it! Speakin of magic All I need is a package of the Magnums and a thick snow bunny to pull off the illest rabbit-in-hat trick I'm throwin verbals at you, before my circles slapped you Ay, guess what I heard If you anti-snitch it can bring down even the greatest person, that true? I guess so, go ask Joe Paterno's statue I'm (CRAZY NIGGA!) The instrumental's loopin I sit in a mental institution with screws loose in my temple Sendin you simpletons delusions, confusin your views with simple distribution, the lyrics I'm usin to abuse you [Chorus] [Joell Ortiz] Y'all crazy man, I ain't crazy man, tell 'em Swayze man They think I'm nuts, like a squirrel baby hands Pattin the ground, buryin my ex-girl's new man's left testicle next to two stands Yellin Shady fans, startin the rescue range of {?} painted grands hand But that ain't the case man I'm just tryna save fans from the same damn million and 80 grams 3-80 blam bars while I wipe my RayBands sunny cause they can't mummy I mean rap, y'all get the point like E.T. back in the '80s So ease back when Ortiz rap It's the Navy, Air Force, Army and Marines packed in an ABC opposition operative robot Built by the fans who feel y'all so not that ill so they scream Yaowa when your show start Will devour you cowards, firin rounds from high-powered go-karts 'til your entire town's in the shower and the soap drops Fuck! Like the last nut who sucked my blowpop Cause I'm charmin and my schlong felt like King Kong's arm and a {?} twat Antibiotics, my psychotic is sick Recite the Bible on the toilet cause my God I'm the shit! Grab my iPod and it skips All you hear is the House like sittin on Amityville couch sayin "Michael you a bitch" See, see? Pumpin with thorozine, I can't see Sido, e-mail from horror scenes, see C dog Thought I see red people All I see C.C. Sabathia's scum track, maybe it's a whole bunch of dead people [Chorus] [DJ Drama] Wait, hold up Joey, put the cigarette out Come get on this shit [Joe Budden] IT'S THAT ON TOP~! Wonder why he different from his boys, my temperament's annoyed Sigmund Freud, belligerent on Ritalin and 'roids Don't, look for a reason, all sentiment is void Oh and pencil and I'm coy when I enter and destroy Watch the tape slow mo and took the stand, face blam Raised my left hand, spit on the Bible as I approached Then grabbed the mic screamed "It's over for you roaches" We can close this only thing that make me crazy, they can't figure out a motive See I'm bipolar, you minimalize my mental strides Memorize the track enterprises if I've been inside In my eyes flesh is meat tenderized, my heart winterized If God put my sins aside I swear I'll start genocide My funeral should look like a general died Dogs there, let the kennel inside And they'll that say he insane though, me I'd agree with that claim though Peep my angle, but some would say he is an angel Never gave a fuck, druggin way too many in my state of serenity Keep it mangled, how can me and him be in the same boat? Ain't no, jokes left, read Fantasia with the Reading Rainbow Pee and flee in the same clothes It's just 2012, Lou Ferigno, I just blow Head in a fish bowl, headed to hell dipped in Crisco And walk over your eclipse, show me where it is You was eaten, turned into Al Green with a phobia of grits I know dudes that never took the fall for they body Skipped childhood, perhaps couldn't afford an Atari Record the homi', call Ferrari, look forward if you try to maul the real Paul McCartney You mighta thought this out awkwardly Not neurotic, this perpetual And homeboy that ain't saliva, it's last week's Molly residue That demon I carry is heavy So whoever said that's a hard pill to swallow must never met me My new nickname’Äôs "Approach With Caution" Owe me money, I resurrect if you approach that coffin Take my kindness for weakness it'll be your last error Wrote my thin line between love and hate in mascara Give me gasoline, pliers, cleaver, don't forget the wrench More oil on his tongue, easier to get him pitched Slaughterhouse fucktard, believes you ain't get the hint? Basement full of insides, freezer full of ligaments Let that be a warning if you eager to gettin rich Gut you niggaz whole, use Febreze just to rid the stench You're devoured - work magic with a weapon And I'm as indecisive as D. Howard, you bleed coward Be certain if you see a guy lurkin through your blinds and curtains, it's Tyler Durden, and verbal Can't merge and emergin as if it's just artificial insemination Only here for revenge cause to him it's just ventilation Pissed off and annoyed, he was goin in incineration by a virgin menstuatin as a nurse continue racin +Truman Show+ his whole life, watch the demonstration And that's one way of FUCKIN the world, no penetration Don't know what to make of you +The Sixth Sense's+ sequal in life form but way more than +Unbreakable+ [Outro: Joe Budden] The game of the super group is bein changed right now my nigga I said (OHH!) House Gang That's right pops, let me talk my shit before we go off (OHH!) Ohh, alright pops I guess that's enough shit talking Ya mean, I think these niggaz get it Y'all know, right?