Lyrics to On The House
[Intro:]
Yeah Brooklyn
I'm in the booth doin' my Joell Ortiz dance
Ah, ah, ah
Hahaa
[Verse 1: Crooked I]
Ever since I started hanging with Slim Shady, it's making the pigs hate me
They racist as Dick Cheney; scared to shake my hand and like maybe they get rabies
They're angry this shits crazy
So I'm fucking their hoes, their ladies get mixed babies
I live mainly like rolling a script
Written for someone who holdin' his dick
That mean I never let a bitch play me, ay me?
I'm off beats, stop it Young Buck
You're not hip to the flow fallin' in awkward pockets
Like the small one in top hip dumbfuck
(Crook keep going)
Teach your class while the speakers blast
New niggas out there eatin' ass; bottoms up like they're drinkin' glass
Sinkin' fast, not on no battleship
I'm not on no battle shit
I'm the king of spazz, ripping beats in half
The backroom to the cypher, nigga you name it
For Funk Flex, to weight scale, nigga you name it
(Keep going)
Hey you bitch niggas givin' me hell
Your body lean, when the shotty ring
Like freedom and crack, you're like the Liberty Bell
A 180 spin then he fell
I'm givin' my enemies L's
No disrespect, but I send them to where the Kennedies dwell
Sick as a Young Ozzy, Osbourne
I's born to be a kamikaze, that's airborne
Popular like Asti Spumante
Body meet the concrete then I creep, then cock beat your auntie in rare form
Lames I never care for 'em
I'm callin' shots from a lawn chair with a air horn
Goin' hard on them hoes
If I sock-her it's part of my goals, call it carnival closed
You've been fair warned
I even put a 1 to 7 on your spouse
Like she got aids/sperm on her mouth
That's on the house!
[Interlude: Joell Ortiz]
Ay Crook, that's how you feel huh?
I can dig it my G
House gang
This one's on the house fellas
[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
Hey Crook I'm doin' my dance too
It's all head and shoulders, no shampoo
Beaver gang, who fucking with my damn crew?
Why the lights flickering? Why the amp blue?
Cause I'm in this bitch, motherfucker, give me my chant (woo!)
Yaowa, I'm right at home I recite a poem
From inside my bone marrow narrow the microphone
Kings down to fall like you crawling tryin' to get out the door
But blaze behave, while we let the gasoline gallons pour
Better than whoever you pointing at
So though I'm not done, like a marijuana cypher, bring this joint back
Hey Crook I'm doin' my dance too
It's all head and shoulders, God damn boo, you lickin' on the bamboo stick, sugar
Prissy bitch, look where my dick took her
Don't walk with your nose in the air, if you got big boogers
Puerto Rican 6 footers, sick shooter
38 special with the speed loader, they call me quick nuqquh
Knick pusher, turn thick booker, rhyme spit, cooker
Slice and dice rap beef, I'm the clips butcher
Got Gotham city going insane
I'll come out the bat cave holding a cane
Everyone remain calm, I'm Bruce Wayne
Where the fuck is Bane!?!
Maintain stamina, my AK caliber flow
And say hello and push your brainwaves out of you mang
See how you ride with your handlebars off of your frame
Throw grenades to your crib, bang: Housegang
In came the truth in 'em, out came you lames
We don't play the skinny jeans and the blouse game
We just tryna feast; bon Apetit
Your Chinese [?] gonna eat: chow mein
Bitch nigga, tryna stop the kids figures
And I'll put 'cho ass on a plate, like a pinch hitter
Don't try to rob DeNiro from Ben Stiller
Cause I'll meet you fuckers with a cold right, that's a chinchilla
Yeah Brooklyn
I'm in the booth doin' my Joell Ortiz dance
Ah, ah, ah
Hahaa
[Verse 1: Crooked I]
Ever since I started hanging with Slim Shady, it's making the pigs hate me
They racist as Dick Cheney; scared to shake my hand and like maybe they get rabies
They're angry this shits crazy
So I'm fucking their hoes, their ladies get mixed babies
I live mainly like rolling a script
Written for someone who holdin' his dick
That mean I never let a bitch play me, ay me?
I'm off beats, stop it Young Buck
You're not hip to the flow fallin' in awkward pockets
Like the small one in top hip dumbfuck
(Crook keep going)
Teach your class while the speakers blast
New niggas out there eatin' ass; bottoms up like they're drinkin' glass
Sinkin' fast, not on no battleship
I'm not on no battle shit
I'm the king of spazz, ripping beats in half
The backroom to the cypher, nigga you name it
For Funk Flex, to weight scale, nigga you name it
(Keep going)
Hey you bitch niggas givin' me hell
Your body lean, when the shotty ring
Like freedom and crack, you're like the Liberty Bell
A 180 spin then he fell
I'm givin' my enemies L's
No disrespect, but I send them to where the Kennedies dwell
Sick as a Young Ozzy, Osbourne
I's born to be a kamikaze, that's airborne
Popular like Asti Spumante
Body meet the concrete then I creep, then cock beat your auntie in rare form
Lames I never care for 'em
I'm callin' shots from a lawn chair with a air horn
Goin' hard on them hoes
If I sock-her it's part of my goals, call it carnival closed
You've been fair warned
I even put a 1 to 7 on your spouse
Like she got aids/sperm on her mouth
That's on the house!
[Interlude: Joell Ortiz]
Ay Crook, that's how you feel huh?
I can dig it my G
House gang
This one's on the house fellas
[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
Hey Crook I'm doin' my dance too
It's all head and shoulders, no shampoo
Beaver gang, who fucking with my damn crew?
Why the lights flickering? Why the amp blue?
Cause I'm in this bitch, motherfucker, give me my chant (woo!)
Yaowa, I'm right at home I recite a poem
From inside my bone marrow narrow the microphone
Kings down to fall like you crawling tryin' to get out the door
But blaze behave, while we let the gasoline gallons pour
Better than whoever you pointing at
So though I'm not done, like a marijuana cypher, bring this joint back
Hey Crook I'm doin' my dance too
It's all head and shoulders, God damn boo, you lickin' on the bamboo stick, sugar
Prissy bitch, look where my dick took her
Don't walk with your nose in the air, if you got big boogers
Puerto Rican 6 footers, sick shooter
38 special with the speed loader, they call me quick nuqquh
Knick pusher, turn thick booker, rhyme spit, cooker
Slice and dice rap beef, I'm the clips butcher
Got Gotham city going insane
I'll come out the bat cave holding a cane
Everyone remain calm, I'm Bruce Wayne
Where the fuck is Bane!?!
Maintain stamina, my AK caliber flow
And say hello and push your brainwaves out of you mang
See how you ride with your handlebars off of your frame
Throw grenades to your crib, bang: Housegang
In came the truth in 'em, out came you lames
We don't play the skinny jeans and the blouse game
We just tryna feast; bon Apetit
Your Chinese [?] gonna eat: chow mein
Bitch nigga, tryna stop the kids figures
And I'll put 'cho ass on a plate, like a pinch hitter
Don't try to rob DeNiro from Ben Stiller
Cause I'll meet you fuckers with a cold right, that's a chinchilla
Songwriters: BUDDEN, JOSEPH ANTHONY / MATHERS, MARSHALL B. III / WILLIAMS, TYLER MATTHEW CARL / MONTGOMERY, RYAN D. / WICKLIFFE, DOMINICK / SEETHARAM, NIKHIL SHANKER / ORTIZ, JOELL
Publisher: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
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Publisher: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Powered by LyricFind