SessionOne

Session One - Eminem (埃米纳姆)/Slaughterhouse

Ladies and gentlemen make some noooooise

Aww sh*t yeah

Y'all ready to get this sh*t started or what

Aight well I brought some friends with me too

Now I ain't back just for the sake of just sayin I'm back

I could relax but I'd rather stack ammo on tracks

Couple Xanax light a couple wax candles then black

Out and relapse 'til I act Jack Daniels and yack

Burp bubbles attitude's immaturin'

Double shot of Bacardi party vision is blurrin

Whoa-oh I can't see sh*t my words get to slurrin

Uh-oh You can call me R Kelly now you're in

Trouble What's occurrin before after and durin' the show

Has no bearing on the bad news I'm baring whoa

What is it wordplay No I'm pushin you out the do'

So suck my dick on the couch if you wanna cushion to blow

Now stomp your f**kin feet 'til you get to squishin a hoe

It's pandemonium standin O when you see him oh

Damn baby you look good you're givin me wood

You should pull over like a sweat-shirt with a hood

It's neck work get her polly on you and me both

Break bread while I'm coppin over this game to pinch a loaf

Now homie who's your favorite pain in the a**

Who claims to be spittin the same flames as me I'm Kanye when he crashed

In other words I got the hood on smash like I stepped on the gas

Destroyed the front end deployed the damn airbags from the dash

Went through 'em and laughed

Came back an hour after the accident and bit a goddamn Jawbreaker in half

So stop fakin the funk and start shakin your a**

Slaughterhouse in the house with the caucasian of rap

And Just Blaze on the track what the f**k's more amazin than that

I'm right here Fire Marshall verbal pair of pliers I pry apart you

Lump on your head designed by a bar stool

Designed by a cartoon

Before I need to be hired Jimmy Io' fire Marshall

The 9 tucked against the linin

I pull it out and flip your partner upside-down like y'all are a couple 69'in

It's like Rick James is shootin up your house ni**a

F**K YO' COUCH NI**A

You're screamin f**k the world with your middle finger up

While I'm over here shovin my dick in a hole in the mud

My b**ch know I'm perfectly fit for murder

Because I murdered her so you can call me Nickel to O J to Glove

I got a Posse of Insane Clowns

Blow your brains on your opposite ear and ask you how your brain sounds

Bad Evil we go Alfred immune in mad cerebral

You on your last burrito

(What that mean Nickel ) It's a wrap if you eatin

Get a beat then terrorize that b**ch like a Middle Eastern

Slaughterhouse on FIRE nobody touchin that

I'm right here in my Nike Airs Buzz Light-years

Ahead of my mic peers quite scary to look at a nightmare

Where my book at I write fear in the heart of you tight squares

I harbor the art of you nice swear ( )

Is that weird cause that made me hotter than my dear

Uncle Al's breath after polishin off his ninth beer

Homie chill listen I swear

I'm God I give tracks a Holy feel and they bite ears

I'm right here why wouldn't I be