Whose House

[Intro]

(DJ RPM)

(Dirty Money Niggas)

[Chorus: Slim The Mobster]

Uh, whose house is this?

Money out the ying-yang, can't count that shit

Stackin' dead prez, mouth to mouth that shit

When they said a nigga wouldn't amount to shit

Now whose house is this?

Laughin' so hard, my tongue is out and shit

Run your dick-sucker, keep me out that bitch

'Fore I spazz and squirt, and I'm out that bitch (RPM)

[Verse 1: Slim The Mobster]

Broadcastin' live from South Central Los Angeles

Where the babies born scandalous

The street, I keep my hand in it

The gun, I keep my hand on it

Niggas is gon' need bandages if I brandish it

Ambulances, the chance that you make it, slim, nigga

I'm good in the hood 'cause I motivated them niggas

I graduated from dumb hoes and malt liquor

To expensive wine and dime bitches

Redlinin' the DB9 like it's my time, pimpin'

Audemars with the sickest shine, quality time spendin'

And you niggas is borderline bitches, that's my opinion

And my niggas is ride or die, Aftermath my religion

Talk loud, but I don't listen, act out and come up missin'

That click-clack-pow did it, like Colin Powell did it

And I'm so West Coast, OK Corral with it

My new foreign car, can't pronounce that shit

You fuck around, I'll Rick James a nigga couch and shit

[Chorus: Slim The Mobster]

Uh, whose house is this?

Money out the ying-yang, can't count that shit

Stackin' dead prez, mouth to mouth that shit

When they said a nigga wouldn't amount to shit

Now whose house is this?

Laughin' so hard, my tongue is out and shit

Run your dick-sucker, keep me out that bitch

'Fore I spazz and squirt, and I'm out that bitch (Give me my damn money, Dirty Money Niggas)

[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar]

Broadcasting live from Compton, California, where foreigners never come

Mothers are worrisome and we dislike the governor

Hope these angels can cover us

If the LAPD ain't do it, it was a cover-up

Coroners 'bout to cover up everybody

I'm serious

Every shotty is sawed off and every nigga is militant

At your gut like Caesareans, what?

EBT cards, no credit, can't lease cars

All my life, been on GR, now my life on the billboards soon

Give me room, I react like a wildebeest and throw salt inside of your wound

You just diabetes to me, ain't shit sweet but these hotels, homie

That Crip shit got my uncles life in jail, homie

So if I push the same line, they'll never forgive me

Or worse than that, them niggas right around the corner might kill me

I'm fightin' back when it's hard, what?

No barber, my guards up

The author of fallen fathers that did it without much

This my house, nigga

[Chorus: Slim The Mobster]

Uh, whose house is this?

Money out the ying-yang, can't count that shit

Stackin' dead prez, mouth to mouth that shit

When they said a nigga wouldn't amount to shit

Now whose house is this?

Laughin' so hard, my tongue is out and shit

Run your dick-sucker, keep me out that bitch

'Fore I spazz and squirt, and I'm out that bitch