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Artist: Slaughterhouse
Album:  2013 BET Hip Hop Awards
Song:   The Slaughterhouse Cypher
Typed by: 

[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

[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