Offshore Lyrics - Slaughterhouse

[Verse 1: Joell Ortiz] 

They say the tongue is the perfect weapon 

All I hang around nowadays is verse perfection 

I knew these three niggas for years but when they each get in that booth they make a first impression 

Time and time again I just want them to thyme again on some fan shit 

I used to rock boom in the hoopty on the van whip with my man Zick, rest his soul 

Before I had a clue what Joe was like 

I used to cop clues just to hear what Joe would write 

Mowi? Used to tell me, me and Crooked sounded so alike 

An 07 XXL shoot, he came over like I'm Crook, I'm like oh hi 

Pleasure to meet you brother 

Seven years later I'm like wow I met my brother on the freshmen cover 

We saw the world together 

Back of that bus fucking girls together 

Got home and broke up with our girls together 

Homie this is special 

Y'all rescued me from special forces back home forced to wear a 38 special 

Cause none of 'em jam ya' 

Summer jam was cool but we hung in Japan 

I dont think y'all niggas truly understand 

I used to think my only way out of the hood was through the number man 

Get drunk and pop shit about running the can 

Damn a whole lot to look forward to 

Papi I was going through 

What any other thorough nigga in my hood was going through 

The G code I know it's true 

You throw at every one of them niggas before they throw at you 

Back then I thought that made me real 

Listening to myself now that shit just gave me chills man 

Cause Id've missed this bus 

I mean this private jet no middle seat cause it's just us shiit' 

All of this cause I can spit 

It's crazy how this get when you can say that shit 

For the haters being a bitch like he ain't making no cream 

I just bought my lady a whip without a radio hit, bitch 

I'd rather talk to you niggas 

Cause really it could be on the way I'm off in (offing) you niggas feel me 

And lets just leave it at that 

Cause if I decide to crumble paper it ain't to rewrite raps 

I got shooters on retainers that would bring me your medulla in containers 

Please be on your cool behavior homey 

And lets just leave it at that 

I know I said that shit before 

But I'm trying to save yall from a war 

[Interlude: Crooked I] 

Yeah you know how you got a Godmother 

I got a God grandmother 

Attie May Johnson man I just got the phone call tonight that she- 

She passed away man know what I'm saying 

She went to the other side 

Attie May I still got that brute cologne you bought for me for my birthday 

I love you let me holler 

[Verse 2: Crooked I] 

I was opening up a can of spam putting ketchup on fake meat 

Still thankful though cause so many hungry nights I ate sleep 

Talking to my cousin before I dropped him off in grape street 

He said crook who we gotta kill to get you a Dre beat 

Cause I don't wanna' see you on this ratchet shit these niggas is on 

And how come niggas don't pick up the phone for you to get on a song 

I said probably cause ima' pick 'em apart as soon as I get in the zone 

And I definitely didn't condone dick riding so I did it alone 

Industry don't want a real nigga to creep in fuck it ima' sneak in 

And fuck going back to that book store I used to sleep in 

My homie let me stay on Saturday and Sunday I used to be homeless like the weekend 

Same three outfits switching them shits till the week ends 

Drowning in my sorrows drinking till I'm sinking in the deep end 

Made myself a promise ima' be the one in the end 

With these rehabilitation bars ima' clean 'em up with the pen 

Then my problems gonna be over and solved 

They finally let me in the damn door now I hope it revolves 

Let me out of this mother fucker too many corny ass bitch ass 

Kiss ass punk ass buster ass fuck ass niggas 

Faggots playing hide the salami 

This is a snake business my nigga and I ain't the swami n'aw 

This is crooked remember I rap circles around your favourite MC 

While calling George Zimmerman a bitch on cable tv 

In racially profile hoodie using BETs cypher just to push my agenda 

I'm Dominick Wickliffe, I'm James' son 

Even though he wore a condom I busted through it I can't forget where I came from 

I keep hearing that there's real niggas in the game alright name some 

All I know is raps a circus 

Your reaching again y'all bleaching your skin y'all bastards searching 

For plastic surgeons to make sure that all of your facial features are thin 

You're turning Hip-hop to pop you maggots singing again 

Just snap your finger and spin 

What the fuck you rapping for 

And mother fuck a grammy just hand them bitches to Macklemore 

I don't need you to tell me that I'm more gifted then a Capricorn 

Born before Christmas get it y'all on some nonsense 

And I'm the type to laugh soon as I hear about Donald Sterling's bitch choking on Magic's Johnson 

[Verse 3: Royce Da 5'9"] 

(Let me get 'em Crook) 

I'm cool calm collective smooth 

I'm from using coupons with a true mom with infectious views 

Number one with you honour and respect the rules 

I'm five feet nine inches tall but boy when I'm standing next to dudes 

It's like I'm standing on a stepping stool 

'cept when im standing with the wrecking crew 

We can turn the tables if we could just make these records move 

I know I know it's easier said then done but until the day that I'm done and dead 

I'll be remembered by more shit being done then said 

Listening to rap you gon' hear lies told 

But not from me and not on this this one goes out to every bloggin' columnist around the globe 

I want my rhyme flow solidified in time so 

I gotta get on my grind bro 

I'm thankful for the success that I have with Em' but honestly he could've sold more records than that on his own in a blind fold 

And all I'm picturing is my daddy with his arms folded 

And looking at me with that look like that's cool but get your own 

Confidence breeds success when it's spoke on 

Then Patron comes into play then it's postponed 

For whatever reason Shady Records still believes in us 

And whatever they see in us Interscope don't 

Comments being made like niggas old and they pathetic 

Now how many times have we proved niggas wrong 

And how many niggas you think gon' come out of them offices 

And try to show up when we blow up some are gon' even try to take the credit 

While we was doing the album the Justice League manager was like 

Them niggas album ain't never coming out them niggas don't even like each other 

Well fuck the Justice League manager 

I would tell you to tell him I said it but talk behind backs is for amateurs 

Bitches fake niggas and punks 

I don't know it all I just know how to ball and go out and get eight figures in chunks 

I'm a fucking warrior I'm a true survivor of having death at your door step, drama in your foyer 

That's probably why I looked at that bottle like that's euphoria 

When you an addict nobody gotta ask if you wanna' drink that habit will actually ask you for ya' 

And that'll destroy ya' 

Take it from a G they call me a soul survivor 

Cause my soul done floated on to the crossroads for change more than coal for drivers 

I made my oldest a promise 

To keep my balls off the net and stay devoted to his Mama 

[Verse 4: Joe Budden] 

(Let me get 'em Nickle) 

Tell me what if this is big as I'm supposed to be 

I'd hate for that to get confirmed don't take the hope from me 

Cause that's a deep threat 

I mean I'd like to think that I ain't take a peek at my peak yet I got my feet wet 

In '98 they said I was close to my death bed 

Vom' and fluid on my cig' it was a meth head 

Was hard back then ain't have a car back then 

Still in on mase had me wishing I had tvs on the head rest 

B.I.G.'s Suicidal Thoughts was getting him through 

Would've took my life had id've known who I was giving in to 

Mama screaming listen to rules if you gon live in this roof 

In retrospect hidden jewel it helped me get in this booth 

Now my notoriety trumping how incognito I try to be 

Even make my bitches keep it low they on their Nayeli 

I don't trust none of these hoes 

Sad part is I'm such a tortured soul I had that thought when I proposed 

Suited up ring in my hand while in my head I'm saying fuck this bitch 

Makes sense that she was thinking even less of me 

Got ruined in my youth when the first one got the best of me 

When she said she'd never leave then she left fuck y'all expect of me 

That resentment only had me fucking different bitches different weeks 

But most of them was bad that made it bitter sweet 

Those are growing pains call it paying dues 

She killed a nigga then birthed one all with the same move 

We could hit the hookah spot and do a dinner 

But thanks to my baby mother i'll bust anywhere but in her 

Cause a baby for her is just a problem i'll be stuck with 

Like what gives so n'aw I ain't arrogant but my nut is 

I'm scarred happened years ago I'm still effected 

If she suck and a swallow then she'll get high it's pill infested 

500 proof laced with addict deficiencies 

But accent in my son another owed to inconsistency 

Ugh' looking at all my life's typos 

Just trying to remove the fat provide the lipo' 

Two words for my enemies die slow 

Full time pyros' we do this with our eyes closed 

[Outro: Joe Budden] 

Word up man one more time for the half wits and the simpletons 

It go two words for my enemies die slow 

Full time fuck it word 

La slaughter, La Familia 

Ya' know what I mean 

No matter what we ride, so lets ride