Session One (ft. Slaughterhouse) – Bad Meets Evil – letras

[Eminem]Now I ain’t back just for the sake of just sayin I’m backI could relax but I’d rather stack ammo on tracksCouple Xanax, light a couple wax candles then blackOut and relapse ’til I yack Jack Daniels and ‘gnacBurp bubbles, attitude’s immaturingDouble shot of Bacardi, party, vision is blurringWhoa-oh, I can’t see shit, my words get to slurringUh-oh! You can call me R. Kelly now, you’re inTrouble! What’s occurring befo’, after, and during the showHas no bearing on the bad news I’m bearing, whoaWhat is it, wordplay? No, I’m pushing you out the do’So suck my dick on the couch if you wanna cushion the blowNow stomp your fucking feet ’til you get to squishing a hoIt’s pandemonium, standing o when you see him, ohDamn baby you look good, you’re giving me woodYou should pull over like a sweat-shirt with a hoodIt’s neck work, get her polly on, you and me bothBreak bread while I’m copping over this game to pinch a loafNow homie who’s your favorite pain in the ass?Who claims to be spitting the same flames as me?I’m Kanye when he crashedIn other words I got the hood on smash like I stepped on the gasDestroyed the front endDeployed the damn airbags from the dashWent through ’em and laughedCame back an hour after the accidentAnd bit a goddamn Jawbreaker in half!So stop faking the funk and start shaking your assSlaughterhouse in the house with the Caucasian of rapAnd Just Blaze on the track, what’s the fuck’s more amazing than that?Slut, answer me that, Royce where you at?[Royce Da 5’9″]I’m right here Fire Marshall, verbal pair of pliers I pry apart youLump on your head designed by a bar stoolDesigned by a cartoonBefore I need to be hired, Jimmy I’ll fire MarshallThe 9 tucked against the liningI pull it out and flip your partner upside-downLike y’all are a couple 69ingIt’s like Rick James is shooting up your house, nigga!{rapid gunfire} FUCK YO’ COUCH NIGGA!You’re screaming, « Fuck the world! » with your middle finger upWhile I’m over here shoving my dick in a hole in the mudMy bitch know I’m perfectly fit for murderBecause I murdered her, so you can call meNickel to O.J. to GloveI got a Posse of Insane ClownsBlow your brains on your opposite earAnd ask you how your brain soundsBad, Evil, we go Alfred E. Neumann mad cerebralYou on your last burrito!(What that mean Nickel?) It’s a wrap if you eatingGet a beat then terrorize that bitch like I’m Middle EasternSlaughterhouse on FIRE, nobody touching thatGood day and good night, Ortiz yo where the FUCK you at?[Joell Ortiz]I’m right here in my Nike Airs, Buzz Light-yearsAhead of my mic peers, quite scary to look at a nightmareWhere my book at? I write fear in the heart of you tight squaresI harbor the art of my nice wearIt’s type weird cause that made me hotter than my dearUncle Al’s breath after polishing off his ninth beerHomie chill, listen, I swearI’m God, I give tracks a Holy-feel, and they bite earsI’m right here, why wouldn’t I be?Just waiting to be hooked to IV as Mumm-Ra’sWell, when you look at my peeAnd this joint no exception, so just point a directionAnd record the pig’s oink when I rip his intestineThis isn’t just an infectionThis won’t go away with penicillin injectionsMillions of questions aroseAfter they did an inspection, what I exhibitSeems to be non-contagious yet anybody can get itAw shiddit, I did it again, when I liddift this penI emitted this phlegm, this time it’s alongside EmiddinemSo tell a friend to tell a friend write a disgusting hookJump in shark water and swim, yo where the fuck is Crook?[Crooked I]I’m right here letting the shotty pop, quick as a karate chopGet your body shot, get your top chopped, like a lollipopCall it Maserati drop, in the body shopGet your mommy knockedAnd your Uncle Tommy molli-woppedI take your life to the ninth inningA knife in the gunfight, I love it, me and my knife winningI laugh when you fall, the shit’ll be funnyI’ll buy my bitch a new ass and watch her sit on my moneyMan, all the bitches holla – they wanna drop my britchesThen jaw on my dick and swallow, leave drawers in this ImpalaI ball like IguodalaI bear more arms than 6 koalasAs soon as I draw, get sent to AllahBilinguist don, I kill with the tongue, I’m Atilla the HunI’m Genghis Khan, I’m a genius spawnI pillage your village for fun, an egregious conA syllable gun, real as they come, Long Beach Saddam!Slaughterhouse equals swine flu, are South flyingWe do it to try to do without tryin(Slaughterhouse!) Cause to it’s us it’s so easyWhere’s Jumpoff Joe Beezy?[Develdiii]