Slaughterhouse, K-Young - Lyrical Murderers lyrics

This is the life, we gone!
I ain't with the leaning and rocking
That ain't even seen as a option

You're nothing without (Focus)
Woo long Beach (Lay your seats back)
New Jersey (Turn your speakers up)
Brook-lyn! Detroit!

We-we, we lyrical murderers
Welcome to the Slaughterhouse
(What you talkin 'bout?)
Where we bring them verbal llamas out, blaow
We-we, we lyrical murderers
Man, we own these streets
And the freaks they love us
We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers
(Slaughterhouse)

Lyrical murderer, blame Rakim
I'm a sniper shooting my way


Into your lame top 10
Pistol at your head if I ain't next to Eminem
Then I bust in your face
Like I'm fucking Lil' Kim
Niggas better pray to the lyrical lord
That I fall off like the umbilical cord
Before I fill up the morgue
This is how a killer record
With the double-edged triple syllable sword
I'm iller than ordinary
See I'm a literary genius
Bury niggas with words, a cemetery linguist
Most rappers are comedy gold
They like they boyfriend's sodomy hole
- they full of shit!

Now you could walk through the shadow of
Death next to that shady street
Where the verbal cocaine business
And 80's meet where them niggas is backwards
I'm riding with my daughter in the front
With the AK in the baby seat
We them copycat killers, unleashing venom
Commit them lyrical murders and
Then we re-commit 'em lyrics be high quality
Bitches be giving me brain
My dick be deep in they heads like psychology
Independently penning the best words
That were ever said
The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear
You can't hide, we everywhere
Now, picture a grizzly standing next
To a teddy bear

We-we, we lyrical murderers
Welcome to the Slaughterhouse
(What you talkin 'bout?)
Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw
We-we, we lyrical murderers
Man, we own these streets
And the freaks they love us
We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers
(Slaughterhouse)

Yeah, hello Hip-Hop, I am here
You dying yeah and I'm aware
A beast so at your wake I'll cry lion's tears
And that's no disrespect to the pioneers
If we ain't who you trying to hear
Something either wrong with your
Eyes and ears
I came in this game screaming Jers'
Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge
Try and run with our wave
But, I'm cool with being Eddie Levert
Seeing my son on stage
Gun gon' blaze, act up in this joint
And I'ma be Nate Robinson and
Back up the point
Your run's over, run with us or get run over
I'm here to save this shit
And I brung soldiers

This is lyrical murder
Me and every track have a physical merger
When I stab it in the chest
I'ma bit of a curver so it bleeds to death
Like the middle of a unfinished burger
Or sometimes I wrap my hand around his throat
'Cause he think his kick is slick
Or his little snare is dope
Shoot the bass in the face but
Sometimes I carry a rope
To hang the piano keys when
They hitting every note
I'm what no beat's able to withstand
If you suffer from writer's block and
Your label got big plans listen to this fam
Slide a little dough out that budget
And hire the instrumental hitman

We-we, we lyrical murderers
Welcome to the Slaughterhouse
(What you talkin 'bout?)
Where we bring them verbal llamas out, blaow
We-we, we lyrical murderers
Man, we own these streets
And the freaks they love us
We ain't worried 'bout you fuckers
(Slaughterhouse)