PRhyme, Slaughterhouse - Microphone Preem lyrics

This is the pick up line
I got to big up mine

I'm handlin' you frauds
These wounded ass niggas
I rap circles around 'em
I'm bandages and gauze
Crooked trap 'round clowns
This rap circus surrounds 'em
But I'm havin' a menage
Fuckin' with the rap game, and the trap game
I'm managin' my odds
Man these rappers out here reachin'
Your arms are too short
Take the boxing gloves off
Hand 'em to the gods
Slaughterhouse, we the military in this bitch
Fuck every Tom, Dick and Harry in this bitch
Yeah
Fuck your apology, I'ma be on astrology shit
March into war like Aries in this bitch, yeah
You call it light work
Nigga this is my life's work
I turn around and beat up a
Beat like I'm writin' Ike's verse
Toe taggin' this mothafucka
I don't think Joe Jackson
And Buster Douglas could ever do a mic worse
I'm tryna murder the microphone
I'm tryna murder the microphone
If you are what you eat
How come I'm not pussy?
That was part uno, this is part two though

This the difference between y'all
Niggas and real rap
The competition fell back, niggas ask
How much did I use to drink
I tell 'em off the top of my head
About a gallon kinda like Pharrell's hat
But all jokes aside like I ordered fries
I'm liable to store somebody's
Corpse in the closet, i'm organized
Before police was interrogatin'
I was livin' the story of my life
And Morgan Freeman was narratin'
(Say it again) I'm 5'9", not an inch
Taller, 'fore all of the jewelry
I've been baller
Before niggas was hypebeasts
My niggas was bike thiefs
You let it out your sight and
They take it to sight see
Same shit, another nigga gotta die today
My bitch gone
(why) , we ain't ever goin' out on dates
(Why) we ain't vacayin' out of state
Whinin' all the time, all she do was holler
We ain't like a Pagan holiday
Rappers will, be actin' ill
Knowing they daffodils
I take the word "lyrical"
And flip it backwards
And that says "laciryl"
And that's exactly how I feel
Shout out to Guru, I got the mass appeal
I'm tryna murder the microphone
I'm tryna murder the microphone
I'll give up drinkin' when she
Give her emotions up
(That was part uno, this is part two though)

Oh you don't, don't let me learn yah
I body the beat and watch it skip
Call it m-murda
The nerve of anyone who ain't heard of
The gang that don't tweet simultaneous for
The sake of the servers (House Gang what up)
Other groups basic mergers
We extort 'em from a distance
Takin' it further drama could be all yours
Why you want a war for?
You can't go at uno, mothafucka
That's a draw 4 we started out as just a
Feature on a Joe joint fuck around now
You on the bleachers soon as Joe point
Brothers for real, I can honestly say
If you come at me, there'll be 3 dots on you
While I'm still typin' meet fire
Street fighters when these pens writin'
Shady, you go through us to get to Em, Bison
(Come on, Quick, you wildin' again)
Nah Joe, these niggas stupid
Boy we do this shit
I'm tryna murder the microphone
I'm tryna murder the microphone
Too many frogs go "ribbet"
But never leave lilies
(That was part uno, this is part two though)

These niggas might play cray, try slay me
Off my mic vacay, call it right, it's mayday
Right footed melee, strapped a light AK
Every bar get in the face like Ice JJ
Do it for Em, my squad do it for Bundles
Could've been copped the Phantom
Bought the Benz bein' humble
Still, the nickel plate is known
To get 'em situated
It's return fire, even when Joey initiate it
How I feel about these rap
Niggas? Fuck 'em all
Drake rhyme about these bitches
I just fuck 'em all a hundred guns
Jeans big enough to tuck 'em all
Banana clips, fully automatic
You can't duck 'em all
Cause when it's gats involved, bodies'll fall
From the sky
Could really be rainin' cats and dogs
It's Joey
Nicer than any rapper you rockin' to
Call a spade a spade
Nigga try to follow suit
I'm tryna murder the microphone
Bring it back to life
I murder that microphone
Too many big dogs, not enough barkin' yet
(That was part uno, this is part two though)