House Gang

[Chorus: Royce da 5'9"]

Me and you (We comin')

Your mama and your cousin too (It don't matter) (We comin')

That hoodrat bitch that's in love witchu (We comin')

We comin' for 'em, you know what we do and

Why we do and how we do it (Yeah)

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]

I said the kid's the dog, everybody dying, no lying

Living the life of a serpent

My enemies in some shit, I'm rolling up in the Viper to wipe him, it's perfect

Rifle dispersing (Come out your house!)

This is offensive-minded gents against a blind defense

This reminds me of Joey checking Consequence (Everyone enjoy their day)

I sound calm but in my mind

I'm hunting you down like you're trying to climb the fence

Split your spleen while you with your queen

Fuck the mood of the room I'm like it ain't no thing (Woo)

Obama take away my right to bear arms

I'm putting a sweater around the uzi and walking around with it like it's my toy dog

Your boy ball like Augmon, augmentation takes place, often if they face off (Woo)

You're calling me sober, so I save the shit

I done drink so much I don't even know what being famous is

The difference between the D-list and the A-list, bitch

All I know is I'm a hop skip and a sniff away from doing a plate of Taylor Swift

That'll be the day you haters wish

That day I'm standing up at that podium at the Grammy show

Dressed up like The Dream living a nightmare, on xannies, coke and handling more than God can throw upon the shoulders of an addict

I'm Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston wrapped up in the plastic package

My only true concern is what am I'm gonna do after rapping

Maybe I'll clap your ass and just do life, 'fore I break in this new knife

All I wanted to do was...

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]

Rappety, rapppety, rappety, rappety rap, that's all I'm good fo'?

Nah, I was that nigga that asked you why you in my hood fo'?

You know them good folk? That's your cousin? Oh, your aunt live in that building

Well then your uncle should have told you don't wear no gold like you're just chillin'

Now I'm gonna need that chain you're wearing, no hard feelin'

Since I know the people you said you kinfolk to won't be no killin'

Though I'm willing to leave you spillin', like oil when they fuck up drillin'

I'm no villain, I'm just playing the hand I was dealt, ain't none of us out here did the dealing

We all grew up in a full house, we were born as little children

Straight in the projects, faces flush, just finish stealing

This ain't no poker face, boy, ain't no bluffing

All that huffing and puffing for what? You're giving up something

Either your life or all that ice you should have tucked in

Now see, back in the days, the yaowa was a trapper

Scribbling raps up in my trapper

Keep up, don't keep, uhh, calling me the same rapper

I MC, get it right, Jack Dempsey with the right

Mayweather with the left,Pacquiáo say goodnight

You don't wanna box me, papi, your footwork sloppy

I'll knock anybody out, that ain't no punchline, man, I'm like Rocky

I'm a quarter of the Slaughter, four-fourths of a New Yorker

You know the aura, Yank, fitted, jeans, Timbs and Chinese food orders

Ortiz

[Chorus: Royce da 5'9", Crooked I]

Me and you (We comin')

Your mama and your cousin too (It don't matter) (We comin')

That hoodrat bitch that's in love witchu (We comin')

We comin' for 'em, you know what we do and (Hahaha)

Why we do and how we do it (Lightwork)

[Verse 3: Crooked I]

My goon levels be equal to Bean' Sigel

Shootin' at a movin' vehicle from the seat of a jeep eagle

Then I’m switching the jeep eagle ditching it for a cheap Regal

Come back with a street sweeper and continue to sleep people

When I squeeze lethal shots you meet evil

Drop the street sweeper, cock the D. Eagle, pop your cerebral

Hemisphere, the end is near, nigga, the menace here

Bitches asking me if Em is here

Shit, he probably playing tennis in his lear

Rocking the diamond worth the city of Venice in his ear

While I’m getting more chin than-- hold on that shit is weird

I was gonna say getting more chin than a nigga trying to enter the Guinness with his beard

Shady Records getting the ladies naked using baby effort

While you niggas inviting hoes to your crib

Knowin' your spot is smaller than those on a baby leopard

Get on my level, maybe never, crazy Mercedes, navy leather seats leaning

The streets fiending, to find somebody who know about

Putting their whole family on, you have to meet Keenan

Wayans, bar for bar, where do I weigh in

No clue, it's Goku, I'm super, I'm just sayin'

[Verse 4: Joe Budden]

Next shit, Flex shit, right back on our shit again

Shady street, House Gang (House Gang), but they won't let us live again

Monday through Friday, [?] pull up in a different Benz

Just in case they thought I was losin' focus, nigga, switch your lens

Critically acclaimed to critically defamed

After all I've done for this industry, these kids should be ashamed, dawg

Maybe I haven't done a thing, and that's a fantasy

I’m not self-centered much, gotta pardon my vanity

Wait, sometimes it’s called for (Why?) You gotta get braggadocios

The only way to get the attention of those that haven't noticed

Mine the only genre that don't seem to applaud consistency

So when I say I'm nicer they ignore how far the distance be

'Cause to me, it's undeniable

Still who they can depend on, never been unreliable

Their hottest shit means nada if them dudes ain't bringin' fire through

So when they make these lists, how could this shit be justifiable?

Jers shit, Jers shit, 'member me from Bentley, kid?

Never went diamond, but the buckets on the Bentley did

Coupe shit's my new chick, 'cause there's something you should know first

Your mixtape ain't shit if the shit ain't got a Joe verse

[Chorus: Royce da 5'9", Crooked I]

Me and you (We comin')

Your mama and your cousin too (It don't matter) (We comin')

That hoodrat bitch that's in love witchu (We comin')

We comin' for 'em, you know what we do and

Why we do and how we do it