House Rules (Intro)

[Intro: Joell Ortiz] Hold up, hold up, le—lemme start it y'all DatPiff.com Premiere Haha, yeah [Verse 1: Joell Ortiz] Yeah, niggas the gang's back again (woo) Royce giving his beard a scratch again Crooked lit a Cuban, Joe acting like he tweetin' But he do that once the track begin (uh-huh) I'm just nibbling on this plastic pen (Slaughter) This sounding like the beginning of a tape (yeah) Usually yellow, you yellow bellies can pick a fake (uh) We ain't have to go soft to get this cake I watched niggas skate for figures Throw away rollerblades for figure skates (ew) I'm just a rough New Yorker fuckin' bitches That only listen to Drake Every night's dinner date, hater get a plate (bon appétit) I tell shorties pick a steak, but make sure it's to go (why?) In case I want to stop eating to fuck your face (Hahaha!) Mouth full, give me mouth drool, oh, is it Throwback Thurs'? You want that back blown out? Cool (cool) But you ain't 'bout to, just B.o.B sittin' on that couch, boo (nah) That ain't how it go, you know the House Rules [Chorus: Crooked I, Joell Ortiz, Royce Da 5'9" & Joe Budden] Uh, no phones inside the telly Pics inside the celly, baby You know the house rules Yeah, respect over a dollar (word) Death before dishonor, partner You know the house rules Uh, if I'm up you can't be down And I'm down to tear shit up for you Homie, you know the house rules Yeah, all bitches with flat stomachs No cars under a hundred, my nigga You know the House Rules [Verse 2: Crooked I] I’m high, chillin' with Bruno on Mars Crooked’s verses put ‘em in hearses, call 'em funeral bars But these funeral bars, they bought me the beautiful cars Like a celebrity photographer, I shoot for the stars I’m just grindin' with my clique 'til we close to the La Cosa Nostra Lookin’ over my shoulder with a toaster and a shoulder holster 'Cause niggas wanna approach ya Get close, they could hope to smoke ya When a vulture pose as ya folks it's an emotional roller coaster Ya friends became foes, everything backwards Pimps became hoes, you know how the game goes Fuck it, one less nigga to split the pie up As long as I triumph, you fake fucks can dry-hump Success is the mission before the mortician Fill me with embalming fluid, I promise that I gotta do it I took some street money, then I added some commas to it To cover my ass like Obamacare and the trauma unit, G [Verse 3: Royce Da 5'9] Oh, what you thought? You thought I wasn't loaded up, huh? You thought I left my last hot line Floatin' in a puddle of vomit before I sobered up, huh? I hope you know you niggas sound mad And it's goin' down fast with no signs of slowin' up, huh? It’s blood, sweat and tears, I shed blood, sweat tears So wipe the sweat; I confess, I insane rap! I went away at the height of my success And now the gang back like biker vests I’m Bogarting the so called un-bogartable Turning yo artist to post-modern flow particles Far as the streets go we got our fingers on the pulse of this With no cardio, believe me We slidin' all over this chess board Like we playin' a lil' ouija with no Mario, this shit is easy We blowin' our budget, we’ll battle you, fuck it Our attitude’s fuck it, that’s why the song about nothin' What you thought?! It’s House Rules, fuck it, crime rules is in your face Wet your Gucci with the Nine tool, you try to win this race Hawk a loogie on ya Louis V and Louboutin shoe Until we see the baton move, how you gon' defend ya fate? And then send you astray, make you late continuous It’s a win-win for us like you askin' us a question continuously You can’t contend with us, one of us like ten of us Crew is covered and it’s the government, gunners is like senators Huh! [Verse 4: Joe Budden] I'm in all black like I just got a funeral call Stand up guy that was rumored to fall Before the goons get involved If it's a problem, hope it's soon to be solved Nigga, done did so many drugs that I'm immune to 'em all Whole state is on my back, can't waver from the facts Drop some money on your head, I'm just playing with the racks But in case he wanna act, don't, fruit of the loom now Get evasive with that, bunch of grapes on a strap That'll do whatever Joe says in Tropez With a bird that look like Selena Gomez, a younger Felipe Lopez Free agents wanna get down, that's on the back page Whole team got one in the chamber, where's the cap space? Vixen in the bed with another on the dial A know the Wi-Fi was great, shorty buffered for a while It's Joe, speeding off with the tail pipe smokin' And fuck rules they was made to be broken The house is back open [Chorus: Crooked I, Joell Ortiz, Royce Da 5'9" & Joe Budden] Uh, no phones inside the telly Pics inside the celly, baby You know the house rules Yeah, respect over a dollar (word) Death before dishonor, partner You know the house rules Uh, if I'm up you can't be down And I'm down to tear shit up for you, homie You know the house rules Yeah, all bitches with flat stomachs No cars under a hundred, my nigga You know the House Rules