If you can't stand the heat, better creep out the kitchen
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This music so therapeutic it could be our religion
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If I am my own problem, then I am my own solution
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We building a glass house so you can see how we living
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Hold up, turn the beat down and listen
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I was predicted to be convicted, catching them beat downs in prison
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By prison guards 'cause fuck authority figures, minority niggas be living hard
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Tell me how to see out your vision when you limit ours
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You're only want to see in the struggle but I got
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Bands in my duffel, bands, bands in my duffel
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Yeah, you can ask the slaughters, I don't mess with you rappers
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Matter of fact our third album is a message to rappers
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My nigga, we let you breathe
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Now all of them accolades from ratchet bitches and faggots in this rapping business is over
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It's back to the business of gangsta rapping that I'm mixing with this backpack, spitting
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With a Rat Pack clique of niggas, you best believe
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You pussy period, I bet you bleed
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A fake nigga that listen to snakes nigga, I bet you Eve
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Meanwhile I'm on my Django with my field niggas
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Twelve years a slave, this industry tryna kill niggas
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Even if they noose me, I die hanging with some real niggas
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And all my nephews are in my will like Uncle Phil, nigga
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I'm really cocky, but that's on the low like Makavelli's intro
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When it sounded like somebody said, "Suge shot me"
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I shot the shit with the niggas that shot shit up
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Welcome to my hood, papi
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Where every night's a movie but never a good copy
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I sat on granny couch, amped about what I'm rambling 'bout
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When the amp blew out I made beats with my hands and mouth
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The man of the house so early
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Little idle with the curly
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Blow out, running behind the girlies
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My nigga Jiggs nicknamed me Idle Boy, I do miss him so dearly
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Just Blaze, I just blaze one up
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Boy, I'm headed up to mobile Monday, I hope you 45's ain't dirty
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Don't need them bitches skipping
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I know I'm skipping around but fuck it
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'Cause I could still bust it with random thoughts, you gotta love it
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Hey Crook, you my brother
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Royce, you my brother
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Joe, you my brother
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4 different fathers, 4 different mothers
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But raised by the culture
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You bet we were hanging the same poster
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Staring at Lil Kim with her legs open
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Rewinding the Nas verse, blasting some Hov
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Dancing to Biggie, tripping off Canibus flow
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Don't act like Cano wasn't a savage, you know
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But back then my squad, everyone rapping is pro
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Yeah, Marshall Mathers my bro, hey, Catfish it's a go
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The magic of 2.0, just getting started
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I'm confused 'cause this healthy mindset made our album retarded
|
I'm just playing with words, yeah, they pay me for that
|
The stages of rap, ask these promoters, these places is packed
|
Just killing time till that album drop
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Slow it down, I dissed you
|
I said its killing time when that album drop
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-----------------
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Illmind Interlude
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| Slaughterhouse |
