[Sample: Royce Da 5'9" & Joe Budden]

This is the life, we gone!

I ain't with the leaning and rocking

That ain't even seen as a option...

[Intro: Crooked I (K-Young)]

You're nothing without (Focus...)

Woo.. Long Beach (Lay your seats back)

New Jersey (Turn your speakers up)

Brook-lyn! Detroit!

[Chorus: K-Young]

We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers

Welcome to the Slaughterhouse

(What you talkin 'bout?)

Where we bring them verbal llamas out, blaow

We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers

Man, we own these streets

And the freaks they love us

We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)

[Verse 1: Crooked I]

Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim

I'm a sniper shooting 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 fucking Lil' Kim

Niggas 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 ordinary, see I'm a literary genius

Bury niggas with words, a cemetery linguist

Most rappers are comedy gold

They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole - they full of shit!

[Verse 2: Royce Da 5'9"]

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 niggas is backwards

I'm riding with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat

We them copycat killers, unleashing venom

Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em

Lyrics be high quality

Bitches be giving me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology

Independently penning the best words that were ever said

The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear

You can't hide, we everywhere

Now, picture a grizzly standing next to a teddy bear

[Chorus: K-Young]

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)

[Verse 3: Joe Budden]

Yeah, hello hip-hop, I am here, you dying 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 trying to hear

Something either wrong with your eyes and ears

I came in this game screaming Jers'

Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge

Try and run with our wave

But I'm cool with being Eddie Levert seeing 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

[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]

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 hitting 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

[Chorus: K-Young]

We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers

Welcome to the Slaughterhouse

(What you talkin 'bout?)

Where we bring them verbal llamas out, blaow

We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers

Man, we own these streets

And the freaks they love us

We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers (Slaughterhouse)