[Verse 1 - Eminem:]
Life handed me lemons

I jump back into the public eye and squirted lemon juice in it
By now you just wish I'd $#&@ing die but I electrify
Get electrocuted, executed by an execution of my flow too quick for the human eye to detect zooming by

Guess who, what's happening guys?
They told me to %#@!, I fell off that pot
Hoped right back up on that crapper and I

Said â??$#&@ itâ? with a capital I
Look who's back to antagonize
You don't like it? You can eat %#@! $#&@ off little !@$)got and die

You right back like ? %#@! better get to the back of the line
You wanna get your shot at me what kinda crap is that
Battle, what kind of rapper would I before I let another rapper think he's hot

I'll bury my face in his stinky twat and go *twat licking noises*
Girl my headspace is limited, ain't even room in the back of my mind
That's why I ain't thinking about you, I don't got time and I told you a thousand times

So how can I find the time to put an alkaline battery and Royce's back and at the same time put juice in mine?
God damn it Slaughterhouse is signed


[Verse 2 - Crooked I:]
I'm a menace villain, my pen is sitting spilling, my lyrics killing
Then I let you witness %#@! when it hit the ceiling

The ^!$$%s willing to give the listeners the sickest feeling
Like mixing some Benadryl and penicillin
Then I'm filling the clip with a written

Can you picture my pistol drilling?
A million women and children when I'm illing
But it isn't real, it's a rap

On the real, it's a wrap
How could you possibly stop the Apocalypse
When I'm atomic bombing the populous

Shock the metropolis hostile as a kid
Popping the Glock at his moms and his pops
Then he hops in his drop with his iPod rocking the Slaughterish

Documentation and lyrics I write with confidence
Write like a columnist slash novelist
I'm in this game to demolish, establish my dominance

Over prominent rappers you popping %#@! till you opposite
I can spit ominous so spit politics now I'm Haile Selassie, Gandhi, and Pac of this hip hop genre
(*##$!


[Verse 3 - Royce Da 5'9":]


Lyrically I'm a cocaine Altoid
Ability to bring ? it's a no brain bout boy
Physically I'm literally a cocaine cowboy

Wait wait, did I just go almost four bars without talking about my big dick?
The other day me and your thick (*##$ had a great day and we ate cake
And then we walked and then she tried to jack me off but she lost

Cause she couldn't handle my %#@!, wait I sweared
Irony of ? is I am bipolar while I'm rhyming standing beside a big old white bear


Neither one of us fight fair, you are literally looking at Woody and Wesley in a movie
With a white boy ain't got to jump no where cause I'm here
^!$$% I'm on fire yeah and I'm every (*##$'s dream

One two I'm coming for you, I'm a big old nightmare
^!$$% this the slaughter stepping up
I'll pretty much slap your $$# and tell you to shut the $#&@ up

After that I'll slap your $$# again and tell you to shut the $#&@ up shutting up
And that's how you body a $#&@ing beat
Goodbye


[Verse 4 - Joell Ortiz:]
I should be the one that goes slow

Get a stopwatch, clock my flow
Hit the button top watch the drug drop
YAOWA when I drop I go outer space

Like I'm like Darth Vader's face
Placed in a molten shower
Say something and get them proper

Mama poppa pouring out vodka
Mama Mia, Em pass me the ?
It's ? Slaughterhouse ? better yet boy go home, better yet boy ?

Better yet boy, Mark Sanchez, Santanio Holmes
I'm not just any old homeboy
Sitting in a lab picking up a pad
I be spitting bad, I'mma get you mad with this gift I have
Lord duck sufferin succotash when the trigger blast I'mma put your beak on your fitted hat

Where the liquor at? Sip of yak
Bad (*##$ and a vicious track ?
Sly Pro tools to boast Joe smooth I coast to the West like we're tired of living at
New York here's a piggyback ride to the motherland
Hold on brotherman, on the other hand get down

I'm gutter fam, gun butt you with the Eagle handle Cunningham
I don't wanna talk, I just wanna beef
I don't want a piece, I want it all baby boy
I don't wanna eat, I wanna feast up ? rough piece of %#@!
You done weak, I'm the one, capiche?


[Verse 5 - Joe Budden:]
Insane what they call us
Ain't married to the game but you probably shouldn't have came to the altar
Every bar like propane for the sawed-off, using ? to forge you

Eminent Mr. Porter, slaughter my cinnamons emminent torture
All of you feminine marauders, that's women at war
Men will $$#ault you, time is a !@$( symbol of ?
Kidnap your trembling daughter, at least a quarter
I'm administering supporters, got an aura more like Sodom and Gomorrah
Normally something's wrong with me

Claiming a quantity of the !@$^ I see on the pause to me
When I fix the game they'll think %#@! came with a warranty
How the $#&@ are they gonna stop it off born to be
Corner me, %#@! belong to me, two choices, you can get along with me
Or sit your !@$)got $$# right there in dormancy
Wait, all you missing is heels to be RuPaul
Ain't nobody that's real ever knew y'all

Second to none and I'm dealing with Marshall
This time I never come down, deal with the blue balls
You ain't gotta fear me but you'll respect me
^!$$%s who never met me threaten me
Why don't you let me come ? I got some machetes
Swinging spaghetti like it's heavy ? deserve an ESPY
In a Chevy like Andretti, put the Dezzy where his chest be