Eminem & Slaughterhouse - Session One | Текст песни

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• Eminem & Slaughterhouse
• Session One

[Eminem]
Now I ain't back just for the sake of just sayin' I'm back
I could relax but I'd rather stack ammo on tracks
Couple Xanax, light a couple wax candles then black
Out and relapse 'til I yack Jack Daniels and 'nac

Burp bubbles, attitude's immaturin'
Double shot of Bacardi, party, vision is blurrin'
Whoa-oh, I can't see sh**, my words get to slurrin'
Uh-oh! You can call me R. Kelly now, you're in trouble!

What's occurrin' before, after endurin' the show
Has no bearin' on the bad news I'm barin', whoa
What is it, wordplay? No I'm pushin' you out the do'
So s**k my d**k on the couch if you wanna cushion the blow

Now stomp your f**kin' feet 'til you get to squishin' a h**
It's pandemo-nium standin' know when you see him, oh
Damn baby you look good, you're givin' me wood
You should, pull over like a sweat-shirt with a hood

It's neck work, get her polly on, you and me both
Break bread while I'm coppin' over this game to pinch a loaf
Now homie who's your favorite pain in the a**?
Who claims to be spittin' the same flames as me? I'm Kanye when he crashed

In other words I got the hood on smash like I stepped on the gas
Destroyed the front end, deployed the damn airbags from the dash
Went through 'em and laughed, came back an hour
After the accident and bit a g**damn Jawbreaker in half

So stop fakin' the funk and start shakin' your a**
Slaughterhouse in the house with the caucasian of rap
And Just Blaze on the track, what's the f**k's more amazin' than that?
S**t, answer me that, Royce where you at?

[Royce Da 5'9"]
I'm right here Fire Marshall, verbal pair of pliers
I pry apart you, lump on your head designed by a bar stool
Designed by a cartoon
Before I need to be hired, Jimmy Io' fire Marshall

The 9 tucked against the linin'
I pull it out and flip your partner upside-down like y'all are a couple 69in'
It's like Rick James is shootin' up your house n**ga!
F**k yo' couch n**ga!

You're screamin' f**k the world with your middle finger up
While I'm over here shovin' my d**k in a hole in the mud
My b**ch, know I'm perfectly fit, for murder
Because I murdered her, so you can call me Nickel to O.J. to Glove

I got a Posse of Insane Clowns, blow your brains
On your opposite ear, and ask you how your brain sounds
Bad, Evil, we go Alfred, immune in mad cerebral
You on your last burrito!

(What that mean Nickel?) It's a wrap if you eatin'
Get a beat then terrorize that b**ch like I'm Middle Eastern
Slaughterhouse on fire, nobody touchin' that
Good day and good night, Ortiz yo where the f**k you at?

[Joell Ortiz]
I'm right here in my Nike Airs, Buzz Light-years
Ahead of my mic peers, quite scary to look at a nightmare
Where my book at? I write fear in the heart of you tight squares
I harbor the art, of you nice swear

It's type weird cause that made me hotter than my dear
Uncle Al's breath after polishin' off his ninth beer
Homie chill, listen, I swear, I'm God
I give tracks a Holy-feel, and they bite ears

I'm right here, why wouldn't I be?
Just waitin' to be hooked to IV as well when you look at my pee
And this joint (no exception) so just point (a direction)
And record the pig's oink (when I rip his intestine)

This isn't just an infection, this won't go away
With penicillin' injections, millions of questions
Arose after they did an inspection what I exhibit
Seems to be non-contagious yet anybody can get it

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