Lyrical Murderers

[Crooked I]
You're nothing without focus
Long Beach! (roll your seats back)
New Jersey! (turn your speakers up)
Brooklyn!

[Kay Young]
We lyrical murderers (Detroit!)
Welcome to the slaughterhouse
(What you talking 'bout?)
Where we bring them verbal rhymers out
We lyrical murderers
Yeah, we on the streets
And the freaks, they love us
We ain't worried about you, fuckers
(Slaughterhouse!)

[Crooked I]
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 edge, triple silica sword
I'm iller than [?]all de nere[?], see I'm a literary genius
Bury niggas with words, a cemetary linguist
Most rappers are comedy gold
They like their boyfriend's sodomy hole, they full of shit

[Royce da 5'9]
Now you can 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, I'm wishing venom
Commit them lyrical murders and then we will commit them
Lyrics be high quality, bitches be giving me brain
My dick me deep in their heads like psychology
Independently penning the best words that were ever said
A mixture of Leatherhead and Everclear
You can't hide, we everywhere
Now, picture a grizzly standing next to a teddy bear

[Kay Young]
We lyrical murderers
Welcome to the slaughterhouse
(What you talking 'bout?)
Where we bring them verbal rhymers out
We lyrical murderers
Yeah, we on the streets
And the freaks, they love us
We ain't worried about you, fuckers

[Joe Budden]
Hello hip-hop I am here, you dying yeah, and I'm aware
A beast, so at your wake I'll cry lions' tears
That's no disrespect to the pioneers, if we ain't who you trying to hear
Something either wrong with your eyes and ears
Came in this game screaming Jersey
Now MC & R lane, they trying to merge
Trying to run with our waves
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

[Joell Ortiz]
This is lyrical murder
Me and every track have a physical merger
When I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver
So it bleeds to death like the middle of an unfinished burger
Or sometimes I wrap my hands around his throat
Cause he think his kick is slick or his little snare's dope
Shoot the bass in the face but sometimes I carry 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 your budget
And hire an instrumental hitman

[Kay Young]
We lyrical murderers
Welcome to the slaughterhouse
(What you talking 'bout?)
Where we bring them verbal rhymers out
We lyrical murderers
Yeah, we on the streets
And the freaks, they love us
We ain't worried about you, fuckers
(Slaughterhouse!)