SLAUGHTERHOUSE - Weight Scale lyrics

rate me

(Nasty Freestyle)

[Verse 1: Royce da 5'9"]

(Today’s agenda) riding with them sodomy sisters

Pistol on hip, hip to your pistol

The day I bow down to a bitch will be the day I throw a bottle at Rihanna inside of a strip club

Leave the booth just to leave a tooth floating around inside of your pimp cup

What goes around comes around in the form of karma

Nah, that’s probably just me riding around your town in a Fisker

Penning a rhyme equivalent to a winning lottery ticket

Uh, fresh of that weight scale, living a crooked heaven on Earth

Giving them straight hell

Kick in the door of them awards, wondering where are we sitting

Niggas with tight jeans looking like where are they fitting

Beware of they written

It’s parallel to an Arab sitting in the terrorist cockpit heading for hell’s kitchen

I talk greasier than Harold’s Chicken

Don’t cross me I leave scales tipping

I’m coming (fresh off that weight scale, fresh off that weight scale

Fresh off that, fresh off that, fresh off that weight scale)

My bitch curvy as a Persian virgin’s features

She here to serve me, she here to disturb the reaper

I keep bank, speak frankless, word to Ariza

I’m fly as a bird and high as the Burj Khalifa

I ride with kings, y’all ride with fiends

You fraudulent niggas remind me of a ponzi scheme

One of y’all niggas was probably cool in school

The rest of y’all niggas was clowns, we should call you the Fonzi team

I’m hate-prone

Niggas listen like ain’t this about a bitch like it's a Drake song ‘cause my cake long

So stay strong ‘cause your bitch giving me cheekbone

Like Grace Jones using my dick like a payphone

But she ain’t getting the call back

She getting the ball sack, hitting the jaw just where we parked at

Quick as a car jack, I ain’t tryna be funny

I’m tryna be missionary lying on top of my money

I’m coming (fresh off that weight scale)

[Verse 2: Crooked I]

(Today’s agenda) what the fuck would I stop for

Knowing I need more guap stored in my sock drawer

They want an encore when the flow is at mach four

King of the jungle no lying, I let the Glock roar

And this bulletproof vest is irrelevant

I’m telling them look at your melon, I’m nailing a shell in it

And the shell is moving right through your melon into your skeleton

Then the felon is belling the same pitch the fella was yelling and

Police sirens respond to heat firing, I’ma keep firing

I’ma flee, I’ma be quiet, I’m a G, I’m a beat tyrant

From Long Beach and I’m East Side

I oughta, bury you artists like an artifact

Serious as a heart attack, Dodger hat, slaughter tats

Roger that, all the rap, that’s me

Can’t believe Ice never thought of that, who the fuck brought it back

(Fresh off that weight scale, fresh off that weight scale

Fresh off that, fresh off that, fresh off that weight scale)

Fresh off that weight scale

I guess I’m Canibus and Kool Moe Dee, ‘cause it’s hard for me to take L’s

I’m tryna make more cake than a bake sale

Tell the Jakes I’ma make bail then escape ‘cause I hate jail

All these rappers saying they spitting hard raps

Before I buy that shit, show me the Barfax

I got a tongue like a sharp ax

I got a ton of rhymes flyer than anything launching off tarmacs

This is how real it is

When I ghostwrite for niggas, I’m speaking through them, I’m really just a ventriloquist

A iller lyricist, a hint of ignorance

A pinch of militant, a perfect description of what this nigga is

Pull out a scale and weigh CDs

Then distribute it to the fans ‘til they need me

I’m a drug dealer so put out an APB

The same shit that gave these 80s babies ADD

[Verse 3: Joell Oritz]

(Today’s agenda) pyrex sit in the kitchen feeling your eye sweat

Gripping your wrist and watching that pie stretch

Pitching to different niggas for figures, never slipping

5-0 tripping, I dip on them through the projects

Dope boy mindset, gotta get this money

Apply the same grind to this rhyme shit

? pick a pad, pick a pen, pick a track

Pick a flow, I pick it apart like a locksmith digging in his nose

Sit in the park with the Dre’s on, ? gone, heavy to eight long

Put brains on pre-K, the shell is a crayon

Man I’m just tryna write, please leave me alone

‘Cause I ain’t tryna fight, I’m a different Iron Mike

Bite your ear with a syllable, lay a hook that’ll finish you

Throwing jabs at you little dudes, my opponents get rid of you

Hit my corner and listen to Eminem, Crook and Nickel

While Joey fucking the ring girl and this fight is unfixable, uh

You rocking with a BQE boy

[That BB, QZQs and BB Kings with D-boy?]

Today’s agenda, flame contenders

And have they dame giving brain to they favorite member, yaowa

(Fresh off that weight scale)

[Verse 4: Joe Budden]

(Today's agenda) diary of a mad man

Machete Joe ? here I am

Ain’t gotta lie, what you see is what you get, ain’t nothing modified

Me, I give them the same song, go check with Spotify

Don’t get the context wrong, I’m the same G

Spending old money, y’all swear it was the same G

Yea these model hoes cute and entertain me

And though I let them go to the head, they never change me

Far from innocent

Your favorite rapper got a head nod before he approached and check my temperament

I wake sleepy hollow, should of done a CT scan

Go to Colorado right now and watch Batman

So my dad think I’m styling, how when

I’m everything he’d be if these new drugs was out then

I owe it to Holmes, rolling stone

But how I wouldn’t let a stone roll, wonder why I’m stone cold

Problem child to aggravated adult

Got bad cards but I ain’t blaming my hand, it’s logic

I hate jewelry and authority the same

So how the fuck you think I feel about a chain of command, I’m saying

I tell you how you different from I

You always hugging the block, I kiss it goodbye

Sober, my last drinking game started with truth or dare

And ended with me thinking a name

So y’all call it out of control, I’m confused when

To think that you in something to me is the illusion

There’s your answer, [verbal smash cancer?]

Now the strip club is a basement, I just came in with some dancers

House gang, the clan made it

Used to be scared of ?, thought the klan made it

Joey the fan favorite

Love then hate it both ‘cause I can’t fake it

And if I did I would never tell

I said that all wrong, y’all would never tell

I keep the mind fuck tucked for the jezzebelle

Even if they help make it shit would never fail

Biatch!