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Our House (Slaughterhouse)

[Hook 1: Eminem] I wanna be the best who ever did it Don't know if that goal is feasible, or it isn't But if it is thank God, if you're listenin' Please give me the strength to crush all competition You can't blame me for dreaming, I'm a dreamer And if I'm coming off brash please forgive me But, that's all I want [Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"] I just wanna be the illest MC (That's all I want) The same time being as real as can be Mayhem, sickness, murder, horror These are the kind of words that describe my aura G Rap, Ras Kass, Kurupt Redman I am cut from that cloth Write a rhyme about me, you a dead man Cool J, I'm Bad video Learn the whole routine and perform it for my father's friends While they smoked and drank Symphony, D.O.C. inspired me to write what Would eventually put me on airplanes like B.o.B Canibus, Wu-Tang, you know our history but hats off When we rap this Jack Frost we outline the track chalk Thank God for the one-two cadence Thank God for the lunchroom tables I'm trying to be the sickest nigga, dead or alive And if I happen to fall short, it's been one hell of a ride Chronic 1 and 2, looking up at the sky at the sun Up until the day the sun is you You listening to hip-hop, you in Jay's house Wayne's house, Nas' house Em's house, Our House [Hook 2: Skylar Grey] So welcome, to our house Where no one, comes back out You won't find, comfort In here, in here, in here [Verse 2: Joell Ortiz] When I was a little boy I wanted to be a rapper Wanted to be on the radio and snapping pictures after And so I grabbed my pen and pad and scribbled chitter chatter It started off whack But in the words of a ten year old, my shit was getting phatter I hit the studio at 16, stupid ill Not knowing how the booth would feel, what's ADAT's and two inch reel How you ad-lib? What's a punch? I ain't a boxer But I sure enough learned the ropes, look D and Mike you made a monster Now everyday's a game of Contra, I got 99 men An infinite amount of rounds inside this mighty fine pen This is my dream, don't fuck with it, I'm telling you Cause anyone can get dusted as long as production is available I'm disgusted as a fan, look how niggas sounding, damn Weak head, ya'll suck bad, fuck swag and your kicks from South Japan I'm finna to be the best in this profession I've been invested all my life, so wipe your feet before you step in Our house [Hook 2 & Hook 1] [Interlude: Joe Budden] I just wanna be the illest MC The same time being as real as can be [Verse 3: Crooked I] Yo, in my house, the lights out No utilities in the facilities Feeling my life's 'bout, to wipe out These feelings I'm feeling be killing me I pull the mic out, can't strike out Cause if winning is really my enemy I pull a nine out, blow my mind out Is the end of me really serenity? Man in my house, it's rap or die Get a piece of that apple pie Life is a Pharcyde song, and that bitch just passes by So I, got lyrically complex, that way I could clock checks Get my moms out the projects, with these concepts, competition can't digest And then I stress cause the road is rough I start feeling like shit's sour The electricity in my will power, could still power, the twin towers For ten hours so send cowards The message from Crooked I Royce Da 5, Joe Budden, Em Yaowa [Verse 4: Eminem] In our, house we spit like Sig Sauers The way I feel now I could spit for six hours Straight, only way to be great, is to dig down, if you can hear this sound in Side my head sounds like a fucking drive-by That's what the inside of my mind's like Looking back on, my career even, hindsights, tunnel vision, 5 mics Never wanted that so bad well I got-ta go mad Nomad with a notepad Go Taz, spaz on these ho bags That bother me, but I never wanna show that Just don't act like it ever does Even though you know that there will never come A day someone blows past you, never was Someone who's as dope as you ever was And you hope that's, true cause the competitor in you Couldn't let someone be better than you And you know that, so you don't ever hold back What you gonna go back, to working a regular job? Fuck that, I'm gonna go hard grab on my, gonads Tell them fuck theyselves They call me a wigger like Renee Zell But I raised hell like a stay-at-home dad Rap is the only thing that I was ever really, bad to the bone at Guess I'm similar to, gangrene when I'm, angry then I'm Hulk Smash, so much passion but no compassion If eyes are the windows to the soul Then it's, broken glass and there's no trespassing Alright now here we go Dre stamped me now I'm stamping Yelawolf be ready for the most competitive Clique in the world it's like Clash Of The Titans I'm releasing the cracker it's time to set it again And when it's said and it's all done None shall fuck with this squadron So come on in, at your own risk This is (Our House) Bitch!