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Intro Music (Women’s voice)
Check this scene, boppers
Slaughterhouse, still standing
There was a murder last night and shit didn’t really sit right with me so I had to tell a story
Ahhhhhh baby, blood on the wall, street life

Verse 1: Joe Budden
America’s worst nightmare, ahead by light years
Hip hop’s only shining star in the night’s air
Right here, don’t fight fair, what I write here
Might there, throw em off like their Bobby Knight’s chair
I’ve been where you’re tryin to be, I’m already hot
All about cake, Betty Crock and spit ready rock
They know my bar game venom and bezzy rock
Kicks from fight club, outfit from Eddie Brock
I’m going for the kill, focused on the steady plot
John Wilkes the booth, like when he dead aimed his mezzy shot
You listening to hip hop’s finest
You rewind this, Slaughterhouse behind this

Verse 2: Joell Ortiz
I like rap, this shit is cool, I’m better then mad niggas
But I’m just as good crack-pitcher as a pad ripper
I say that to say this
Don’t let mad liquor turn me to a bodybag zipper and not an ad-libber
Couple joints ago I was right on that Ave which
Your mag bigger then the catch David Tyree had last winter
I’m not a made up character
That’s a Puerto Rican Brooklynite with two kids yall see in the mag (pause)
And however I got to feed them I will
All they’ll ever need in life is me and my will
Interfere with that it’s gonna be more then a beat that I kill
Disrespect with an indirect and you’re gonna see if I’m real

Verse 3: Crooked I
Fuck you bloodsucking parasites
I’m bringing the terror right in from of your parent’s sight
Your parents’ eyes
And yeah I where a pair of pipes
I wear em like cellulite on the pair of thighs
I’m Eric Wright, I’m ruthless, I terrorize
You’ll either parish or be paralyzed
I’m a 1000 degrees Farenheit
I’m even keepin them heaters when we perform
On stage rockin like we from Korn, the people roar
But they don’t know it’s a secret war
Inside of a rider, I’m seeking revenge on the world for being born
And the desert eagle is mi amor
She'll fuck you to death, blow your brains
Either or, cause she a whore

Verse 4: Royce da 5’9”
Allow me to reassure your stripes worthless
Like a pair of Diadors when it leaves the Adidas store
Don’t be comparing us to rappers
Compare us to the Arabs, this is a terrorist attack (boom)
Lord have mercy, we here to destroy everything
You niggas is butter in front of fuckin machete swings
Motherfucker I’m fly, I ain’t no scary goon
Try me and I guarantee I’m gonna see you very soon
Leave a nigga ass out like Prince
Take his bitch, put my graffiti bridge right under her cherry moon
We notorious, pushing these porsches
Ya’ll niggas is orphans to us, ahh we the Warriors

(Women’s Voice)
Ahh wait a minute, doctors, lawyers, slow down baby

Verse 5: Joe Budden
This rap shit is a workout on my legs
A nigga going hard on his bike, but two many dudes is jumpin on the pegs
Ain’t know when that raw shit get recorded
Either let your speakers enforce it or lay it down in a mosh pit
Of course it’s the bosses acting like officers
Running in these corporate offices
Hungry looking for a four course dish, no matter what the cost is
Like the world’s lawless and we don’t know what remorse is
Cause the V needs like a 1000 horses
Slaughterhouse hoody on, that’s my new Courture shit
Jumpoff, he be the best
Computers rank me #1, blame the BCS, it’s their fault nigga

Verse 6: Joell Ortiz
Ask about your boy, I’m nice with my hand
Maybe that’s why every last thing I write is a jam
Minus the fans, the flights to Japan, I am the man
Anyone who feel they can see me is in dire need of an eye exam
My mind expands wider then a fan base of a fire ban
And what I release from my diaphragm sticks to you
Like the wrist of Spiderman
Full of average listeners is what you liars can do, but you gonna die a scam
When I die they will retire my entire hand
For years of scripting whoop ass, making intruders try a can
I guess the moral of the story is Joell’s victorious
And everything is all Gravy like Notorious

Verse 7: Crooked I
Left a nigga dead cause he said he was ready for I
Let the berrata give him wings cause he said he was fly
I’m in my Chevy riding to Bar Exam and Mood Muzik
They’re the closet to Reasonable Doubt and Ready to Die
Crooked I, watch for snitches and wire devices
My four-fifth fire at crisis, lift you higher then prices
On my ice and on the mic, I am the nicest
Me and my bitch ride for life, like Osiris and Isis (yeah)
Word to Run DMC, I’m tougher then leatherface
Never threw a gun in the trash, but they call me weaponwaist
It’s like we’re moving from the projects to the Hamptons
The way my hammers be sending bastards to a better place

Verse 8: Royce da 5’9”
Let me set it straight, their fans been let astray
Niggas keep gassin with guns with unleaded spray
They don’t know they’re one flow, one medic away
From being taken away from here in a leaded state
I handle all my serious issues with metal
I stick you so deep in the Earth your zipper can tickle the devil
I’m skippin da pick on the shovel
I’ll picking you up and I’m shoving your head in the mud until your kidneys is level
Pardon, I live for the moment, you rhyming, I give the atonement
Like the Indians, I scalp and I wear the opponent
But I’m a chief, matter fact I’m a beast
I’m a motherfuckin Slaughterhouse G (boom)
Thanks homie!  Ive been looking for the lyrics to warriors

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