[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 I’d [bad word] 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, what’s happening guys?
 They told me to [bad word]  I fell off that pot
 Hoped right back up on that crapper and I
 Said  [bad word] you” with a capital I
 Look who’s back to antagonize
 You don’t like it? You can eat [bad word]  [bad word] off little [bad word] and die
 You right back like a maggot on my [bad word] grabbing at mine. [bad word] better get to the back of the line
 You wanna get your shot at me what kinda [bad word] is that
 Battle, what kind of rapper would I before I let another rapper think he’s hot
 I’ll bury my face in his stinky [bad word] and go alalalala
 Girl my head space is limited, ain’t even room in the back of my mind
 That’s why I ain’t thinking about you, I don’t 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?
 Goddamnit Slaughterhouse is signed

 [Verse 2: Crooked I]
 I’m a menace villain, my pen is sitting spilling, my lyrics killing
 Then I let you witness [bad word] when it hit the ceiling
 The niggas willing to give the listeners the sickest feeling
 Like mixing some Benadryl and penicillin
 Then I’m filling the clip with a written
 Can you picture my pistol drilling?
 million women and children when I’m illing
 But it isn’t real, it’s a rap
 On the real, it’s a wrap
 How could you possibly stop the Apocalypse
 When I’m 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
 I’m in this game to demolish, establish my dominance
 Over prominent rappers you popping [bad word] till you opposite
 I can spit ominous so spit politics now I’m Haile Selassie, Gandhi, and Pac of this hip hop genre, [bad word] 

 [Voice]
 SlaughterHouse!

 [Verse 3: Royce]
 Lyrically I’m a cocaine Altoid
 Ability to bring ? it’s a no brain bout boy
 Physically I’m literally a cocaine cowboy
 Wait wait, did I just go almost four bars without talking about my big [bad word] 
 The other day me and your thick [bad word] 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 couldn’t handle my [bad word]  wait I sweared
 Irony of rhyming is I am bipolar while I’m 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 ain’t got to jump no where cause I’m here
 [bad word] I’m on fire yeah and I’m every [bad word] s dream
 One, two [bad word] for you, I’m a big old nightmare
 [bad word] this the slaughter stepping up
 I’ll pretty much slap your [bad word] and tell you to shut the [bad word] up
 After that I’ll slap your [bad word] again and tell you to shut the [bad word] up shutting up
 And that’s how you body a [bad word] beat

 [Voice]

 [Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
 I should be the one that goes slow
 Get a stopwatch, clock my flow
 Hit the button top watch the [bad word] drop
 ? when I drop I go outer space
 Like I’m like Darth Vader’s face
 Placed in a molten shower
 Say something and get them proper
 Mama poppa pouring out vodka
 Mama Mia, pass me the seeds
 It’s ? Slaughterhouse ? better yet boy go home, better yet boy ?
 Better jet boy, Mark Sanchez, Santanio Holmes
 I’m not just any old homeboy
 Sitting in a lab picking up a pad
 I be spitting bad, I’mma get you mad with this gift I have
 Lord duck sufferin succotash when the trigger blast I’mma put your beak on your [bad word] hat
 Where the liquor at? Sip of yak
 That [bad word] and a vicious track ?
 Sly Pro tools to boast Joe smo