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Eminem Feat. Slaughterhouse - Loud Noises

Produced By: Mr. Porter
Recording Year: 2011


[Intro: Brick Tamland]

[Verse 1: Eminem]
Life handed me lemons, I jump back into the public eye
And squirted lemon juice in it by now you just wish Iíd fucking die
But I electrify, get electrocuted, executed by an executioner
Of my flow too quick for the human eye to detect zooming by
Guess who, whatís happening guys? They told me to shit
I fell off that pot hoped right back up on that crapper and I
Said fuck you with a capital I, look whoís back to antagonize
You donít like it? You can eat shit, fuck off little faggot and die
You right back like a maggot on my dick grabbing at my shit better get to the back
Of the line, You wanna get your shot at me what kinda crap is that battle
What kind of rapper would I be before I let another rapper think heís hot
Iíll bury my face in his stinky twat and go..
Go 'head, space is limited, ainít even room in the back of my mind
Thatís why I ainít thinking about you, I donít got time and I told you a thousand times
So how can I find the time to put an alkaline battery in Royce's back
And at the same time put juice in mine? Goddammit Slaughterhouse is signed

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
Iím a menace villain, my pen is sitting spilling, my livers killing
Then I let you witness shit when it hit the ceiling
The niggas willing to give the listeners the sickest feeling
Like mixing some Benadryl and penicillin then Iím filling the clip
With a written, can you picture my pistol drilling?
A million women and children when Iím illing but it isnít real, itís a rap
On the real, itís a wrap
How could you possibly stop the Apocalypse when Iím atomic bombing the populous
Shock the metropolis hostile as a kid popping the Glock at his moms
And his pops then he hops in his drop with his iPod rocking the Slaughterish
Documentation and lyrics I write with confidence
Write like a columnist slash novelist
Iím in this game to demolish, establish my dominance
Over prominent rappers you popping shit till you opposite
I can spit ominous so spit politics now Iím Haile Selassie
Gandhi and Pac of this hip hop genre, bitch

[Verse 3: Royce]
Lyrically Iím a cocaine Altoid
Ability to bring (?) itís a no brain bout boy
Physically Iím literally a cocaine cowboy
Wait wait, did I just go almost four bars without talking about my big dick?
The other day me and your thick bitch had a great day and we ate cake
And then we walked and then she tried to jack me off but she lost
Cause she couldnít handle my shit, wait I sweared
Irony of Ryan is I am bipolar while Iím rhyming standing beside a big old white bear
Neither one of us fight fair, you are literally looking at Woody and Wesley in a movie
With a white boy ainít got to jump no where cause Iím here
Nigga Iím on fire yeah and Iím every bitchís dream
One, two Iím coming for you, Iím a big old nightmare
Nigga this the slaughter stepping up
Iíll pretty much slap your ass and tell you to shut the fuck up
After that Iíll slap your ass again and tell you to shut the fuck up shutting up
And thatís how you body a fucking beat


[Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
I should be the one that goes slow
īNah get a stopwatch, clock my flow
Hit the button on top watch the jaw drop
Oh oh thatís that yo thatís YAOWA
When I drop I go outta space
Blackout like Darth Vaderís face
Placed in a molten shower
Say something and get them proper
Mama poppa pouring out vodka
Mama Mia, Em pass me the seeds
Itís ? Slaughterhouse ? better yet boy go home, better yet boy ?
Better jet boy, Mark Sanchez, Santanio Holmes
Iím not just any old homeboy
Sitting in a lab picking up a pad
I be spitting bad, Iímma get you mad with this gift I have
Lord duck sufferin succotash when the trigger blast Iímma put your beak on your fitted hat
Where the liquor at? Sip of yak
That bitchh and a vicious track ?
Sly Pro tools to boast Joe smooth I coast to the West like weíre tired of living at
New York hereís a piggyback ride to the motherland
Hold on brotherman, on the other hand get down
Iím gutter fam, gun butt you with the Eagle handle Cunningham
I donít wanna talk, I just wanna beef
I donít want a piece, I want it all baby boy
I donít wanna eat, I wanna feast up ? rough piece of shit
You done weak, Iím the one, capiche?

[Verse 5: Joe Budden]
Insane what they call us
Ainít married to the game but you probably shouldnít have came to the altar
Every bar like propane for the sawed-off, using ? to forge you
Eminent Mr. Porter, slaughter my cinnamons emminent torture
All of you feminine marauders, thatís women at war
Men will assault you, time is a bastard symbol of ?
Kidnap your trembling daughter, at least a quarter
Iím administering supporters, got an aura more like Sodom and Gomorrah
Normally somethingís wrong with me
Claiming a quantity of the porn I see on the pause to me
When I fix the game theyíll think shit came with a warranty
How the fuck are they gonna stop ? born to be
Corner me, shit belong to me, two choices, you can get along with me
Or sit your faggot ass right there in dormancy
Wait, all you missing is heels to be RuPaul
Ainít nobody thatís real ever knew yíall
Second to none and Iím dealing with Marshall
This time I never come down, deal with the blue balls
You ainít gotta fear me but youíll respect me
Niggas who never met me threaten me, want to gillete me
Why donít you let me come ? I got some machetes
Swinging spaghetti like itís heavy ? deserve an ESPY
In a Chevy like Andretti, put the Dezzy where his chest be


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