Song: Onslaught
Year: 2009
Viewed: 44 - Published at: 7 years ago

[Verse 1 - Royce Da 5'9"]
You dealin with a four-headed monster
Y'all are John McCain, you can't lift your arms up
These po-ranhas, live by a certain code of conduct
Fuck fly hoes and blow ganja
He a prophet, predict shit
The year 2029 is gon' be the apocalypse caused by the Apophis - me
I got it lock and key
Tell the labels we 'bout to go on a shoppin' spree
And if y'all don't wanna sign us, you corny
Tell your hoes swallow two of these nuts and call us in the mornin'
We the answer, to the dance floor please
You gotta fuck us all bitch, you can't Or-tease
Budden, Crooked, Nickel, damn whore please
We up in this bitch like trans or see
We the Voltron crew, it's whatever your folks wan' do
We turn this bitch into SOCOM 2
I'm the best rapper alive, Lil Wayne's migraine
Jay-Z's headache, touchin' what the lead ain't
Motherfuck your feelings, you don't know with what you're dealin'
Tryin to "ketchup", you mustard spillin'
I'm amongst hustlers killin'
Money stacks touch the ceiling, what a fuckin' feelin'
You will never feel, you will never sell
You can't see me, feel me, they should use my knuckles instead of Braille
I walk with the toast - feelin like
How the fuck is talk is cheap? Talk is what's gon' cost you the most
I'm the one really yo
I'm the gun spark like Omilio, you a J-Hood done video
That ain't a diss so please don't diss me
The mag' barrel longer than the G's on 50
I tell a bitch click your heels twice and ease on with me
This is the life... we gone
[Verse 2 - Joe Budden]
I ain't with the leanin' and rockin'
That ain't even seen as a option, nigga as a teen I was mobbin'
Stick him up, if it's in his jeans then I'm robbin
Mayne, walk around like the thing get to cockin' (what?)
But I ain't even tryna be seen when it's poppin'
You ain't seen hoppin 'til you seen with a rocket
Pull up, lookin' real clean in the drop and (nigga)
I ain't hit the bing or a cot since
Dog, tell your whole team ya cannot win
'Til they make some type of vaccine, I'm a problem
I don't sleep on a soul, got that wrong (nigga)
Even Ben Vereen can get tapped on
Clapped on, mashed on, like M.O
My M.O. is Rambo, ammo
Got money now so there's marble on the handle
On wax so let's beef with no candles
Dismantled, click, bam!
Got some shit your man won't with-stand (nigga!)
I make the hood like V.I.P
Now you can't even get in without a wrist-band
I'm just, bland
Learn when you walk with your head too high is when shit hits the fan
Damn, Grant Hamblin, grand tamperin'
In two bars I'll send your mans scramblin'
Now how it feel to throw punches and can't land 'em?
Or be powerless while you can't stand 'em
And treat Comp like Richard Simmons
Behind closed doors the boy gon' manhandle him
Get out-paced 'til you out the race
If you worried about your face, about face (nigga!)
Cause, if you ain't all about your papes
Then nigga you a transgender, all outta place
[Verse 3 - Crooked I]
When I face off, picture a thug missin' his mug
Any particular stick in the mud could get hit with a Scud missile
'til he's, drippin' ridiculous blood
If you, rather stick to the fists and the gloves
Then you, gettin' hit on, more than the prettiest bitch in the club
Nigga I'm itchin to bug!
Itchi'n like a syphilis dick, itchin' like the skin of a bitch
Addicted to drugs, just to hit you with slugs
I did it because I wanted to!
Shoot you in back of your head right in front of you
That's what the gun'll do
All I do is son ol' niggas on the W
All I do is make all newcomers come anew
I ain't lyin', sir
You ain't gotta watch Tim Duncan jump to see a flyin Spur
Bentley boy, no it's not "H to the Izzo"
But I push buttons like Jay shoulda did Joe
People's choice, the voice of my time
With Royce Da 5'9", we boys and night shine
I let Joell poison my mind
Grab a silencer and kill y'all noise with my 9
As Spalding balls'll get tossed in the hoop
Pierce from Boston explains how often I shoot
I'm a Molotov crossed with a nuke
See I swallow liquor bottles 'til they hollow then I crawl in the booth
I'm the truth, polygraph Crooked
You prolly have a cardiac heart attack when I autograph bullets
Mo' caskets - put so much bread on your head
When my gunners are done, man they owe taxes
Bow-legged, knock-kneed, one irregular shoe
And you supposed to be steppin' to who?
Tell 'em All Crooked came for war
The best ever on the West unless your last name's Shakur
[Verse 4 - Joell Ortiz]
Just be easy buddy, relax
Please don't have me bloody my axe
Or revvin' my chainsaw to sever your brain off
With no concentration I'm better than Adolf
Never been laid off, forever put in work
As beats and skeets I fucked every bitch that said I was a jerk
Heh, it's like you cuter when you word maneuver
Got every dot-com in my palm and I don't know how to work computers
Yeah it's true, Slaughterhouse, I know you heard the rumors
That's new but '02 e'ry verse was ruder
Than you worthless losers
So we formed a four alien alliance, just dyin' to earth intruders
E'rybody's a president, bunch of Herbert Hoovers
If what I said had legs it could burn a cougar
Speakin' of burn, I'm hip-hop sixty shots of Henny on the rocks
You're eggnog with a squirt of Kahlua
Can't lie, it's mad fun bein' zoned
My flow is straight, yours slant like Gumby's dome
Lotta guys don't want me on
But as long as I get in a spot with my fists, my gun be home
I will beat you dudes like you stole from moms
In an audience at shows I just fold my arms
I'm so disappointed in you new rap guys
I'm like no! C'mon, how'd he do that? Why?
Oh, no, he diggity do that doe
"I'm MC so-and-so, where's my ringtone dough?"
See that ain't gon' cut it long as I'm around
That goes for every person, place or thing that describes a noun
It's J-O-E-double what I never take
Whoever feel they could give me my first one then set a date
I'll Be There like a young Mike Jack'
Hip-Hop prayed and God gave Pun right back

( Slaughterhouse )