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The Illest

The Illest Lyrics Slaughterhouse

[Verse 1: Joell Ortiz]
Rusty nine getting gully on the roof
This so rough, I left my skully on in the booth
I drag my tin boots through the gutter with the troops
That'll fire at you while you with your mother on the stoop
Ain't nothin' nice, filling five cent cups with ice
Ass crack stuffed with the stuff that the custies like
My flow inspired by po-po riding by
Cause little Jojo let the .44 iron fly
So expect nothing but heat from me, when the beat ugly
I sour dollar spit, ain't nothing sweet money
So whoever say Ortiz hungry is lying
I’m starving, I’m famine, man I act like I never eat sonny
I keep ya head nodding, when the bass pumping
And you can hate cousin, but don’t say something
And no face muggin’, I’m S-H-A-D-Y
Slaughterhouse all day, youngin'

[Hook: Notorious B.I.G.]
Lyrically I’m untouchable, uncrushable
Ask your friends, who’s the illest

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
Yeah, rap is in danger
Crooked I was born in a California manger
God of the West coast, know the flow nice
When you’re signed to Shady/Aftermath and used to be on Death Row
What if my, gun and I, sing you a lullaby
Nullify your skull in 5 seconds by putting a slug inside
Run and hide, I’m on some money goon shit
Married to the streets, honeymoon shit, yeah, fuck a bride
I’m 'bout to go Van Gogh and I have to reach
For slavery guns, that mean I draw a masterpiece
I spit darts quick as a spliff sparks
Writtens’ll kick start, split you in six parts
Which part of "I’m the shit and you a skid mark" did you not get?
Put you in a ditch when it’s pitch dark, make your bitch suck my dick, clark
That's what you get, heard that you a snitch
Now get that tattoo that say life, cause you a bitch

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Joe Budden]
I left the mask home to bury something, no disguise
It couldn't get more official if it was notarized
I won't depend on a jeweler for you to know it's fly
Top of the chain of command if I’m playing my hand, then I'm bettin' on override
Who think they over I? Hoping they vocalize
This ain't even a group, just one real nigga multiplied
This'll end brutally if you tryna get fast
I put my life on it like it was mass
Better pray that this Vicodin last
If not rappers are in danger
Niggas is in a box, I’m tired of rappers in a Wrangler
We'll clap and rearrange ya, but I hate to make my pyschiatrist right
And it’s exactly what she said would happen with my anger
You can’t relate to it, how you gon’ measure it?
Broke, can’t treasure it, jokers just embezzle it
It’s time to separate the realness from the rhetoric
I figure one statement from B.I. should help to settle this...

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Royce da 5'9"]
I said I’m gunning for the motherfucking king
Like the historical terrace shot
I’m sittin’ in a Hilton rich like Paris' pops
Spread money around the whole town like heiress twat
Compare us not, I’m a terrible terrorist plot
You the character Carrot Top, while I’m stomping on barriers 'til my era stops
Like a tricerotops; when I’m done roaming this earth
Bury my bones in Mariah or Keri’s box
Who you know answer with gun? Shady’s our home
We live with the GOAT like Julio from Sanford and Son
We're the problem with a problem, got no love for my foes
Y'all just wearing red bottoms, I got blood on my sole
We are dope, we are postal, we not social
On Twitter we block Oprah and Deepak Chopra!
Y’all niggas think y'all fucking with us cause people quote ya singles
Yeah right, you making your fucking point with broken fingers
My dreams fulfilled like this cup full of potent tequila
That I’m bout to raise up, and toast to dreamers

[Outro: B.I.G.]
Get your writing crew, get your writing crew
And they dopest rhymes, I get up in that ass every time
Lyrically I’m untouchable, uncrushable
Ask your friends, who’s the illest

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