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?