Artist: Slaughterhouse Album: Welcome To: Our House Song: Hammer Dance Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com {"You are now listening to araabMUZIK"} [Crooked I] SLAUGHTERHOUSE! [Joell Ortiz] Joell Ortiz - my real name my rap shit No made-up nigga; I'm straight up nigga Still in the projects where I came up nigga On a scaffold doin ten sets of ten gettin my weight up nigga~! I'm no shooter but my shooters'll have your brain exposed But I'll shoot five in a SECOND homie and break your nose Talk had passed, I'm dead ass I was livin life fast with my pistol in the grass Diggin in my ass tryin to finish up the last so I can sit it in the stash, Olde E sweat drippin from the bags Milk crates sittin on the ave while I'm lookin left to right for them niggaz with the badge My moms dishes really had crack on 'em 12 twelves and I kept them shits packed for 'em Yeah they came back for 'em I could paint it so vivid cause I really lived it If rap fail I'll stack bail and show you how to get it! [Chorus: Royce Da 5'9"] I'm in the club, bottle in hand doin my two-step While I got my gun in my pants, call it the - Hammer Dance Uhh, bitches dancin on a nigga When they feel the gun, I tell 'em we doin the - Hammer Dance Uhh; two-steppin with my weapon on me You good? I'm just checkin homie Uhh; fam-a-lam, you don't stand a chance While I got this gun in my pants doin my +Hammer+ dance [Crooked I] In these L.A. times I wake up on one House slippers and coffee, I know the paper gon' come I drop shit to make the gangstas go dumb Keep a bad bitch naked like my waist with no gun Uhh (I'm f'real, how are you?) Got street power, from the watchtowers to Howard U. How would you become me? I don't do what you cowards do Flip a thousand pounds of that sour dies' in an hour dude I'm out my muh'fuckin mind Fuck a punchline, salute my muh'fuckin grind Ditchin Feds on the regular, they tryin +To Catch a Predator+ Not the Chris Hanson type but the Danny Glover kind I'm a killer, everybody know I'll body yo' audio When the shottie blow say goodbye to yo' barrio, you maricón! You don't think that I'm about this? Ice grill nigga, put your money where your MOUTH is! [Chorus] [Joe Budden] (Uhh) Joey - my real name my rap shit Fuck with Chase but the real bank is the mattress Money ain't new to me, been gettin G stacks Since Smoove B took his shorty back from rehab Knife work with me but the chrome is extra Case I'm in the same taxi as +The Bone Collector+ Uhh, y'all rappin 'bout models, I get hounded by 'em Not a killer at all, I'm just surrounded by 'em Just a real nigga, straight from my mother's stomach Ain't enough cloth for all of us to be cut from it Not decided by who toast lead Cause all of us will be +Angels+ for Pujols bread Lot of hostility, hollerin is killin me Screamin over my dead body like it's not a possibility On my Jers' bullshit, never mind me But if it's ever problems niggaz know where to find me [Chorus] {"You are now listening to araabMUZIK"} [Crooked I] SLAUGHTERHOUSE!