Lyrical Murderers Lyrics - K Young

"This is the life, we gone!" - [Royce Da 5'9"] 

"I ain't with the leanin and rockin 

That ain't even seen as a option..." 

You're nothin without (Focus) 

Woo, Long Beach (lay your seats back) 

New Jersey (turn your speakers up) 

Brook-lyn! Detroit! 

[Chorus] 

We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers 

Welcome to the Slaughterhouse 

(What you talkin 'bout?) 

Where we bring them verbal llamas out, bloaw 

We-we, we lyrical murrrrrrrrrrrderers 

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 shootin' 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 fuckin' Lil' Kim 

Niggaz 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 all 

Dineri, see I'm a literary genius 

Bury niggaz 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 niggaz is backwards 

I'm ridin' with my daughter in the front with the A.K. in the baby seat 

We them copycat killers, unleashin' venom 

Commit them lyrical murders and then we re-commit 'em 

Lyrics be high quality 

Bitches be givin' me brain, my dick be deep in they heads like psychology 

Independently pennin' the best words that were ever said 

The mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear 

You can't hide, we everywhere 

Now, picture a grizzly standin' next to a teddy bear 

[Chorus] 

Yeah 

Hello hip-hop, I am here, you dyin 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 tryin' to hear 

Somethin' either wrong with your eyes and ears 

I came in this game screamin' Jers' 

Ain't an MC in our lane to try and merge 

Try and run with our wave 

But I'm cool with bein' Eddie Levert seein' 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 hittin' 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 

[Chorus]