BET Back Room Freestyle

[Intro: DJ Premier]

Yo wassup y'all. This is Dj Premier, and I bring to you raw lyrics, raw skills, in the backroom. Slaughterhouse

[Pre-Verse: Joe Budden]

Eight-twenty-eight, Welcome to: Our House. Shady House Gang. We go. Check this, look...

[Verse 1: Joe Budden]

If the motto of the lotto is a dollar and a dream

I don't play it every day it's just insomnia and cream

Fools lookin' for Joe they need a tapper with a beam

Don't make a bad point like Mike Conley's on your team

(Bdatt, Bdatt) Writing's on the wall, know the languages

Learned from Denzel, even a safe house is dangerous

You watch me, I might appear like I do robberies

Brain introduced cocky, don't misconstrue the mirage, B

Flip side, strangers think I'm cool probably

See him throwin' pool parties, bad broads and nude bodies but

My script was edited, I had a ton of change

Project X now, but it started as a Hunger Game

Your bars backed up, pink I'll keep strokin'

But you without a release, tell me how we gon' come the same?

I'm watching paraplegic's sayin' they run the game

I'll be in the cut, let 'em claim what they wanna claim

[Verse 2: Royce da 5'9]

Uhh, my clique shottas, you ain't fuckin' with this roster

My chick a knockout, head to toe like a kick-boxer

Don't get boxed up, your chick got her lips cocked up

I pulled my dick outta my boxers and Chris Bosh'd her

Uh, now that my AK's out in the open

I put his mind on vacay, I rerouted his focus

Yeah, now that the ace spade bottle is open

I'm tryna ménage with J.K. Rowling and Oprah

I'm a soldier, uh, I'm not polite my G

I got lighters, I don't care about your life

I don't need to run the streets, I don't need yo plot

They don't call me Royce for nothin' my baby I got the white

I'll put you on the asphalt, you try to rip my cash off

Rip ya face off and season it with bath salts

I know my way around here like if I designed a compass

When my girl come around here I feel like I jumped inside of a trumpet

I got it locked like I laid my vocal booths in the vault

Especially when it's dark I get desolate with thoughts

I'm gettin' green like Brian Pumper under water

With his whole jewel collection on, wrestlin' the Hulk

Talkin' bout they bust a heater

But when I see 'em, they be more like Justin Bieber

I be with flussers, skeezers, diva..

(Joell, you're supposed to help me out man!)

[Verse 3: Joell Ortiz]

(8/28 as well..YAOWA!)

Don't act up, we in the back room, back up

I want everything Green Bay, everybody pack up

Your raps suck, I spit like I'm down to my last buck

Mad stuff ain't in the fridge, not a packet of ketchup

You that tough? You don't talk, you spark it instead?

Wal-Mart next door, you put a Target to bed?

You a marksman with lead? Here's a mark on my head

You a Mark, all you do is argue with Ted

You ain't hood, you drive past it and glance

I still hood trade my cash fo' they stamps

Those who ain't g-e-t G.E.D.s in class fashion

I offer BET, EBT transactions

You feel I'm too cocky? Quit

I'll pay your little cable bill so you can watch me spit

Problems, I'll make your eye grow like a wildflower

Cuz twitter's the only time you'll see 'em pound Yaowa

I got bars for days, I'm lyin', I got bars for weeks, I'm lyin'

I got bars for years, I'm lyin', I got bars for aeons

Don't ever put me on the same level as these lil suckers rhymin'

And yes, I'm hood when the show's over, fo sho

You a 'fo I let the four fold ya

Boom, pow, bam like the old Joker

Put your face all over Brooklyn like a HOV poster

You played in grass dog, I played in gravel

On the same roof as the enemy when he was flamin' at you

We threw Snapples at the Taber-nacle

I mean the Tabernacle, whatever, the place that had the prayin' statues

You put me in that garden, I'da ate the apple

Put a worm on a hook as a bait to catch a flamin' snapper

Man I ain't tryna be a famous rapper

It's just you dudes slackin' and I'm cool spazzin'..

[Verse 4: Crooked I (Interrupts Joell Ortiz)]

You dudes actin' like Hugh Jackman

You dudes lickin' the boot straps of these new rappers that never knew snappin'

Move back with ya cute rappin' while you yappin'

I'm V.I.P. with the loot stackin', ya boo crackin'

I'm probably too ghetto for rap dudes

I'm probably in BET's bathroom, nursin' my stab wounds

I probably just murdered the back room

You rappers probably act goon, probably pussy as cat womb

All of you villains in french braids, pretendin' you concealing them switch blades

Quit man

Crooked put life insurance on the beat, then I kill it to get paid

Yeah, I listen to you ignorant niggas spittin'

It's like I feel my IQ slippin' 'til I'm still in the fifth grade

Do me a fave, swallow a grizznade

Yeah, homie follow the Slizz Nang (?)

I salute ya if you follow the Slaughterous Gizzang

Why would I fear for?

When a cypher I'm the kind of guy that'll watch ya die behind a 99 cent store

I’m fine with my bench warrants, I ride with my wrench

Arrive in my in-store, I drive my six-four

Hop out, yell out, Welcome To Our House

Bitch, house slippers on, that chopper under my outfit

Until the day y'all allow

Mitt Romney to make freedom of speech illegal, I'mma spit wild shit

You rap crazy lame, I stack daily mane

It's that Shady gang, the fat lady sang

That means it's over for all of y'all

The way that we the new Juice Crew, Eminem should stand for Marley Marl, SLAUGHTERHOUSE