Slaughterhouse - Hammer Dance lyrics

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 doing ten sets of
Ten, getting 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
Talking past, I'm dead ass, I was living
Life fast with my pistol in the grab
Digging in my ass tryna finish up the last
So I can sit it in a stash
Old E sweat dripping from the bag
Milk crates sitting on the ave
While I'm looking left and right for
Them niggas with the badge
My mom's dishes really had crack on 'em
12 12s and I kept that shit packed for 'em
Yeah they came back for 'em
I can paint it so vivid
Cause I really lived it
If rap fail, I stack bail
And show you how to get it!

I'm in the club
Bottle in hand doing my two step
While I got my gun in my pants
Call it the hammer dance
Bitches dancing on a nigga
When they feel the gun
I tell 'em we're doing the hammer dance
Two steppin' with my weapon on me
You good? I'm just checking, homie
Fam-a lam, you don't stand a chance
While I got this gun in my
Pants doing my hammer dance

In these LA times, I wake up on one
House slippers and coffee
I know the paper gon' come
I drop shit that make the gangstas go dumb
Keep a bad bitch naked like
My waist with no gun
I'm for real, how are you? Got street power
From the Watts Towers to Howard Hugh
How would you become me? I don't
Do what you cowards do
Flip a thousand pounds of that
Sour dies' in a hour, dude
I'm out my muh'fuckin' mind
Fuck a punchline, salute my muh'fuckin' grind
Ditching feds on the regular
They're trying to catch a predator
Not the Chris Hansen type
But the Danny Glover kind
I'm a killer, everybody know I body yo audio
When the shotty blow say
Goodbye to your barrio, you maricón
You don't think that I'm about this
Ice grill, nigga
Put your money where your mouth is

I'm in the club
Bottle in hand doing my two step
While I got my gun in my pants
Call it the hammer dance
Bitches dancing on a nigga
When they feel the gun
I tell 'em we're doing the hammer dance
Two steppin' with my weapon on me
You good? I'm just checking, homie
Fam-a lam, you don't stand a chance
While I got this gun in my
Pants doing my hammer dance

(Joey) my real name, my rap shit
Fuck with Chase
But the real bank is the mattress
Money ain't new to me, been getting G-stacks
Since Smoove B took his
Shawty back from rehab
Knife work with me, but the chrome is extra
Case I'm in the same taxi
As the bone collector
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 totes lead
'Cause all of us would be
Angels for Pujols' bread
Lot of hostility, hollering is killing me
Screaming "Over my dead body
" like it's not a possibility
On my Jers' bullshit, never mind me
But if it's ever problems
Niggas know where to find me

I'm in the club
Bottle in hand doing my two step
While I got my gun in my pants
Call it the hammer dance
Bitches dancing on a nigga
When they feel the gun
I tell 'em we're doing the hammer dance
Two steppin' with my weapon on me
You good? I'm just checking, homie
Fam-a lam, you don't stand a chance
While I got this gun in my
Pants doing my hammer dance