Luyện nghe bài hát Slaughterhouse

[Joell
Aiyyo what you said, 24 right?
cool, I got you

Uhh, I define gutter - time I rhyme
I climb up another notch, hip-hop got my spine
But I'll be fine brother - my hovers
all you jive suckers wishin, that's word to my mother
You a shot at me, I'm throwin a shot back
Yours is on a joint, whistlin by your top hat
Yeah I'm cool but you violate and cock back
Open the mac's mouth and black out I do not rap
I'm sick and tired of niggaz
They fifth is lyin in the second drawer next door to some bullshit they
be makin up stories the little kids is buyin
I do everything my State like a Nittany Lion
I gotta mention the streets on a song
to get in a nigga ass on beats like a thong, pause
Veterans me, the up-and-comers scared
The pretty go "Papi, here's my underwear!"
Never in a years I thought I'd be a rapper
But in less than a hundred bars I I'd be a factor
I'm PS4 in HD and the screen is
You're Atari 2600 with a adapter
us the gap's so crazy
I'm Gucci, Louis V; Gap, Old Navy
I get coochie in the V, you no ladies
You're suburb, I'm gutter the gats go crazy!

[Nino
Look, you know,
a lecture, ain't tryin to be Pun's successor
That term's done fucker, what up
You birds is food, I'm about to pluck some
I'm young and clever, plus under pressure
Yup! Who does this
around with medal all on me like the front of Shredder
I for cheddar you owe me
Leave holes in your vest that'll your chest like a sunken treasure
I'm somethin, a phenomenon
Droppin for fun then dine in hell during Ramadan
Whatever I'm rhymin on or
I tear 'em apart; on my pops
No, in my heart, shit, been through it all
Done swam with the sharks, snapped with my jaws
I'm all that, and a bag of the piff
off of a brick of mixed with acid hits like sick cracker shit
Get back, birds I ignore the hype
Click-clack, Berg'd if you flossin ice
Dawg, cross me twice, can't afford the
It'll cost you, I'll off life!
You soft, I you I'm raw white when I'm on this mic
Still mourn at night, don't wanna see mornin
And I like I'm forced to fight
When the CHiPS are down like Ponch off his bike (AHHH!)
Of course my metaphors are tight awesome,
I got 'em in awe, my Jordan like
What's really Who diddy-boppin?
You wasn't really, now you all and really conscious
I ain't with that nonsense, I really pop shit
My gun stay cocked like Biggie's
I, I stay but grown bitter
On your grave they're "Fucked with the wrong nigga"

I]
I don't write I kill a pen, leak its blood on the
I breathe bars like oxygen my lungs in a cage
get fucked on the stage
A pedophile unless I dig in the and fuck with somethin my age
Forever vow, to never when I'm at peace
Only I'm eatin the deceased like quiche
Only when my enemy's organs are a smorgasbord in a feast
The Dahmer with melanin led 'em in the belly of the
You'll be missin until see your corpse
I'll be in Michigan stickin a in my Michelin
ready to pigeon pitch again Switzerland to New York
I was whippin before them pictures up in the Source
I'm a gorillas behind these bars, on zoo shit
Shoot you while you're talkin on some news crew's shit
Sicker flyin in past tense on some flu shit
Day-old flow, I drop new shit!
Exclusive! You don't want it in
I'll the doctors operatin on the front of your back
Tryin to keep stomach intact
The spiritual you, leavin your body, he don't wanna go
That's when the tunnel go black; I your soul to the atmosphere
outta here, and your ringtone rap career!
It's Crooked I, the of Eastside Long Beach
Put your ear to the street so you can hear my

Da 5'9"]
Nickel!
I hope know I'll show up to your show
I'll up where you go, show up to your do', fo's will explode
'fore they hit the flo', I know niggaz know
I got a window flow, I air shit OUT
In the D they used to me Mayor Royce
Now they call me Clay
Guess "Sheeeeeeeeeeee-it"
Cause when it come to them words you I wear shit out
I write rhymes like, white on a nose tray
Ice cold Ice flow like O'Shea
shotgun with Chris Martin my DJ
Not the boy, but I'm down for the Coldplay
Forever stay violent, stay silent
Hammers stay hummin strummin the mandolin violin
Speakin of, I done a tune of violence
More than my Charles Hamilton played Sonic
I wrap up, clap niggaz up, scrap niggaz up
that or we gon' slap niggaz up
Dump on you - right before I go
into my Maino mode if I the scent of Yung Berg on ya
'Til it no mo', ain't no dough
Get into his ass cause I ain't opposed, I'm a livin anal
I'm a lame-ophobe, fact my nigga JumpOff
Can I keep goin? (Why the not!)
When I was a teen, I used to pack a
Now I'm spittin sittin between and Jay (ohh!)
I pull the jeans down on my and then wave
Cause the pussy Max B wavy when she ain't
I leave the booth like somebody ain't sprayed
I talk about Kimbo but I ain't crazy
I'm like Marty McFly goin in time
and dissin his momma nigga you can't me

[Joe
They say he a bastard for real, then see the ass on his girl
So they wonderin, why's he so mad at the
I it out on tracks, I R.I.P. it
So even to the producer hard to I.D. it
Bars tremendous, it's in best interest
I insist your men just, do best Bush rendish
Endless, move more two inches
My blood'll boil I got a big skin cyst
So end or see me ma