Hold up, Hold Up
Let me start it y'all, Haha!
Yeah *******s the gang is back again
Royce giving his beard a scratch again
Crooked lit a Cuban
Joe acting like he tweeting but he do that once the track begin
I'm just nibbling on this plastic pen
This sounding like the beginning of a tape
Usually yellow, and yellow bellies can pick a fake
We ain't have to go soft to get this cake
I watched *******s skate for figures
Throw away rollerblades for figure skates
I'm just a rough New Yorker ******* ******* that only listen to Drake
Every night's dinner date, hater get a plate
I tell shorties pick a steak but make sure it's to go
Incase I want to start eating her face
Mouth full, give me mouth drool
I was that throwback thurs
You want that back blown out, cool
But you ain't about to
Just be over sitting on that couch boo
That ain't how it go, you know the House Rules
Uh, no phones inside the telly
Pics inside the celly
Baby you know the house rules
Death before dishonour
Partner you know the house rules
Uh, if I'm up you can't be down
And I'm down to tear *******t up for you homie
You know the house rules
Yeah, all ******* with flat stomachs
No cars under a hundred
My ******* you know the House Rules
I’m high. Chillin' with Bruno on Mars
Crooked’s verses put ‘em in hearses, call 'em funeral bars
But these funeral bars, they bought me them beautiful cars
Like a celebrity photographer, I shoot for the stars
I’m just grinding with my clique 'til we close to the La Costa Nostra
Lookin’ over my shoulder with a toaster and a shoulder holster
Ya friends became foes, everything backwards, pimps became hoes
You know how the game goes
As long as I triumph, you fake *******s can dry hump
Success is the mission before the mortician
Fill me with the bombin fluid, I promise that I gotta do it
I took some street money, then I added some commas to it
To cover my ass like Obama-Care and the trauma unit, G
Oh what you thought? You thought I wasn’t loaded up, huh?
You thought I left my last hot line floatin' in the puddle of vomit before I sobered up, huh?
And its goin' down fast with no signs of slowin' up, huh?
It’s blood, sweat and tears. I shed blood, sweat, tears so wipe the sweat
I confess, I insane rap
I went and weighed the height of my success and now the game back
Like biker vests
I’m Bogarted, the so called un-bogartable
Turning yo artist to post modern flow particles
Far as the streets go, we got our fingers on the pulse of this with no cardio, believe me
We slidin' all over this chess board like we playin' a lil' Ouija with no Mario, this *******t is easy
We blowin' our budget, we’ll battle you, ******* it
Our attitude’s ******* it, that’s why the song about nothin'
What you thought?
It’s House Rules, ******* it, crime rules is in yo face
Wet your Gucci with the Nine too. You try to win this race
Hawk a loogie on ya Louis V and Louboutin shoe until we see the baton move
How you gonna defend ya fate
And then send you astray, make you late continuous
It’s a win-win for us like you askin' us a question continuously
You can’t contend with us. One of us like ten of us. Crew is covered and it’s the government gunners is like senators
I'm in all black like I just got a funeral call
Stand up guy that was rumored to fall
Before the gloons get involved
******* done did so many drugs that I'm immune to em' all
Whole state is on my back, can't wave them from the facts
But in case you want to act, don't
Fruit of the loom now get evasive with that
Bunch of grapes on a strap that'll do whatever Joe says
Free agents want to get down, thats on the back page
Vixen in the bed with another on the dial
A know the Wi-Fi was great, shorty buffered for a while
And ******* rules they was made to be broken
🎵 LRC歌词版本
Hold up, Hold Up
Let me start it y'all, Haha!
[Verse 1: Joell Ortiz]
Yeah *******s the gang is back again
Royce giving his beard a scratch again
Crooked lit a Cuban
Joe acting like he tweeting but he do that once the track begin
I'm just nibbling on this plastic pen
This sounding like the beginning of a tape
Usually yellow, and yellow bellies can pick a fake
We ain't have to go soft to get this cake
I watched *******s skate for figures
Throw away rollerblades for figure skates
I'm just a rough New Yorker ******* ******* that only listen to Drake
Every night's dinner date, hater get a plate
I tell shorties pick a steak but make sure it's to go
Incase I want to start eating her face
Mouth full, give me mouth drool
I was that throwback thurs
You want that back blown out, cool
But you ain't about to
Just be over sitting on that couch boo
That ain't how it go, you know the House Rules
[Hook: Slaughterhouse]
Uh, no phones inside the telly
Pics inside the celly
Baby you know the house rules
Death before dishonour
Partner you know the house rules
Uh, if I'm up you can't be down
And I'm down to tear *******t up for you homie
You know the house rules
Yeah, all ******* with flat stomachs
No cars under a hundred
My ******* you know the House Rules
[Verse 2: Crooked I]
I’m high. Chillin' with Bruno on Mars
Crooked’s verses put ‘em in hearses, call 'em funeral bars
But these funeral bars, they bought me them beautiful cars
Like a celebrity photographer, I shoot for the stars
I’m just grinding with my clique 'til we close to the La Costa Nostra
Lookin’ over my shoulder with a toaster and a shoulder holster
Ya friends became foes, everything backwards, pimps became hoes
You know how the game goes
As long as I triumph, you fake *******s can dry hump
Success is the mission before the mortician
Fill me with the bombin fluid, I promise that I gotta do it
I took some street money, then I added some commas to it
To cover my ass like Obama-Care and the trauma unit, G
[Verse 3: Royce Da 5'9]
Oh what you thought? You thought I wasn’t loaded up, huh?
You thought I left my last hot line floatin' in the puddle of vomit before I sobered up, huh?
And its goin' down fast with no signs of slowin' up, huh?
It’s blood, sweat and tears. I shed blood, sweat, tears so wipe the sweat
I confess, I insane rap
I went and weighed the height of my success and now the game back
Like biker vests
I’m Bogarted, the so called un-bogartable
Turning yo artist to post modern flow particles
Far as the streets go, we got our fingers on the pulse of this with no cardio, believe me
We slidin' all over this chess board like we playin' a lil' Ouija with no Mario, this *******t is easy
We blowin' our budget, we’ll battle you, ******* it
Our attitude’s ******* it, that’s why the song about nothin'
What you thought?
It’s House Rules, ******* it, crime rules is in yo face
Wet your Gucci with the Nine too. You try to win this race
Hawk a loogie on ya Louis V and Louboutin shoe until we see the baton move
How you gonna defend ya fate
And then send you astray, make you late continuous
It’s a win-win for us like you askin' us a question continuously
You can’t contend with us. One of us like ten of us. Crew is covered and it’s the government gunners is like senators
[Verse 4: Joe Budden]
I'm in all black like I just got a funeral call
Stand up guy that was rumored to fall
Before the gloons get involved
******* done did so many drugs that I'm immune to em' all
Whole state is on my back, can't wave them from the facts
But in case you want to act, don't
Fruit of the loom now get evasive with that
Bunch of grapes on a strap that'll do whatever Joe says
Free agents want to get down, thats on the back page
Vixen in the bed with another on the dial
A know the Wi-Fi was great, shorty buffered for a while
And ******* rules they was made to be broken
📝 纯歌词版本
Hold up, Hold Up
Let me start it y'all, Haha!
Yeah *******s the gang is back again
Royce giving his beard a scratch again
Crooked lit a Cuban
Joe acting like he tweeting but he do that once the track begin
I'm just nibbling on this plastic pen
This sounding like the beginning of a tape
Usually yellow, and yellow bellies can pick a fake
We ain't have to go soft to get this cake
I watched *******s skate for figures
Throw away rollerblades for figure skates
I'm just a rough New Yorker ******* ******* that only listen to Drake
Every night's dinner date, hater get a plate
I tell shorties pick a steak but make sure it's to go
Incase I want to start eating her face
Mouth full, give me mouth drool
I was that throwback thurs
You want that back blown out, cool
But you ain't about to
Just be over sitting on that couch boo
That ain't how it go, you know the House Rules
Uh, no phones inside the telly
Pics inside the celly
Baby you know the house rules
Death before dishonour
Partner you know the house rules
Uh, if I'm up you can't be down
And I'm down to tear *******t up for you homie
You know the house rules
Yeah, all ******* with flat stomachs
No cars under a hundred
My ******* you know the House Rules
I’m high. Chillin' with Bruno on Mars
Crooked’s verses put ‘em in hearses, call 'em funeral bars
But these funeral bars, they bought me them beautiful cars
Like a celebrity photographer, I shoot for the stars
I’m just grinding with my clique 'til we close to the La Costa Nostra
Lookin’ over my shoulder with a toaster and a shoulder holster
Ya friends became foes, everything backwards, pimps became hoes
You know how the game goes
As long as I triumph, you fake *******s can dry hump
Success is the mission before the mortician
Fill me with the bombin fluid, I promise that I gotta do it
I took some street money, then I added some commas to it
To cover my ass like Obama-Care and the trauma unit, G
Oh what you thought? You thought I wasn’t loaded up, huh?
You thought I left my last hot line floatin' in the puddle of vomit before I sobered up, huh?
And its goin' down fast with no signs of slowin' up, huh?
It’s blood, sweat and tears. I shed blood, sweat, tears so wipe the sweat
I confess, I insane rap
I went and weighed the height of my success and now the game back
Like biker vests
I’m Bogarted, the so called un-bogartable
Turning yo artist to post modern flow particles
Far as the streets go, we got our fingers on the pulse of this with no cardio, believe me
We slidin' all over this chess board like we playin' a lil' Ouija with no Mario, this *******t is easy
We blowin' our budget, we’ll battle you, ******* it
Our attitude’s ******* it, that’s why the song about nothin'
What you thought?
It’s House Rules, ******* it, crime rules is in yo face
Wet your Gucci with the Nine too. You try to win this race
Hawk a loogie on ya Louis V and Louboutin shoe until we see the baton move
How you gonna defend ya fate
And then send you astray, make you late continuous
It’s a win-win for us like you askin' us a question continuously
You can’t contend with us. One of us like ten of us. Crew is covered and it’s the government gunners is like senators
I'm in all black like I just got a funeral call
Stand up guy that was rumored to fall
Before the gloons get involved
******* done did so many drugs that I'm immune to em' all
Whole state is on my back, can't wave them from the facts
But in case you want to act, don't
Fruit of the loom now get evasive with that
Bunch of grapes on a strap that'll do whatever Joe says
Free agents want to get down, thats on the back page
Vixen in the bed with another on the dial
A know the Wi-Fi was great, shorty buffered for a while
And ******* rules they was made to be broken
🎵 LRC歌词版本
Hold up, Hold Up
Let me start it y'all, Haha!
[Verse 1: Joell Ortiz]
Yeah *******s the gang is back again
Royce giving his beard a scratch again
Crooked lit a Cuban
Joe acting like he tweeting but he do that once the track begin
I'm just nibbling on this plastic pen
This sounding like the beginning of a tape
Usually yellow, and yellow bellies can pick a fake
We ain't have to go soft to get this cake
I watched *******s skate for figures
Throw away rollerblades for figure skates
I'm just a rough New Yorker ******* ******* that only listen to Drake
Every night's dinner date, hater get a plate
I tell shorties pick a steak but make sure it's to go
Incase I want to start eating her face
Mouth full, give me mouth drool
I was that throwback thurs
You want that back blown out, cool
But you ain't about to
Just be over sitting on that couch boo
That ain't how it go, you know the House Rules
[Hook: Slaughterhouse]
Uh, no phones inside the telly
Pics inside the celly
Baby you know the house rules
Death before dishonour
Partner you know the house rules
Uh, if I'm up you can't be down
And I'm down to tear *******t up for you homie
You know the house rules
Yeah, all ******* with flat stomachs
No cars under a hundred
My ******* you know the House Rules
[Verse 2: Crooked I]
I’m high. Chillin' with Bruno on Mars
Crooked’s verses put ‘em in hearses, call 'em funeral bars
But these funeral bars, they bought me them beautiful cars
Like a celebrity photographer, I shoot for the stars
I’m just grinding with my clique 'til we close to the La Costa Nostra
Lookin’ over my shoulder with a toaster and a shoulder holster
Ya friends became foes, everything backwards, pimps became hoes
You know how the game goes
As long as I triumph, you fake *******s can dry hump
Success is the mission before the mortician
Fill me with the bombin fluid, I promise that I gotta do it
I took some street money, then I added some commas to it
To cover my ass like Obama-Care and the trauma unit, G
[Verse 3: Royce Da 5'9]
Oh what you thought? You thought I wasn’t loaded up, huh?
You thought I left my last hot line floatin' in the puddle of vomit before I sobered up, huh?
And its goin' down fast with no signs of slowin' up, huh?
It’s blood, sweat and tears. I shed blood, sweat, tears so wipe the sweat
I confess, I insane rap
I went and weighed the height of my success and now the game back
Like biker vests
I’m Bogarted, the so called un-bogartable
Turning yo artist to post modern flow particles
Far as the streets go, we got our fingers on the pulse of this with no cardio, believe me
We slidin' all over this chess board like we playin' a lil' Ouija with no Mario, this *******t is easy
We blowin' our budget, we’ll battle you, ******* it
Our attitude’s ******* it, that’s why the song about nothin'
What you thought?
It’s House Rules, ******* it, crime rules is in yo face
Wet your Gucci with the Nine too. You try to win this race
Hawk a loogie on ya Louis V and Louboutin shoe until we see the baton move
How you gonna defend ya fate
And then send you astray, make you late continuous
It’s a win-win for us like you askin' us a question continuously
You can’t contend with us. One of us like ten of us. Crew is covered and it’s the government gunners is like senators
[Verse 4: Joe Budden]
I'm in all black like I just got a funeral call
Stand up guy that was rumored to fall
Before the gloons get involved
******* done did so many drugs that I'm immune to em' all
Whole state is on my back, can't wave them from the facts
But in case you want to act, don't
Fruit of the loom now get evasive with that
Bunch of grapes on a strap that'll do whatever Joe says
Free agents want to get down, thats on the back page
Vixen in the bed with another on the dial
A know the Wi-Fi was great, shorty buffered for a while
And ******* rules they was made to be broken
Blood is my life
Blood is the road
Everytime I have to write another hate song
This is the last great hate song
Scorned is this life
Scarred is my sou...
This is the pick up line, I got to big up mine
I'm handlin' you frauds
These wounded ass niggas, I rap circles around 'em
I'm bandages and gauze
Crook...
Hook: Claret Jai
We're so furiously dangerous
We're so furiously dangerous
We're so furiously dangerous
We're so furiously dangerous
Verse 1: Ludacri...
... Presents „
The Way It began“
Let’s see now
First thing
I can remember is an evening years back
The four of us was together even then
And from that...
Our House
I wanna be the best who ever did it
Don't know if that goal is feasible, or it isn't
But if it is then God, if you're listenin'
Please give ...
We them back pack *******s
Rap rap *******s
You’ll be talking ************t about all day
Internet underground, *******s
Our intellect just won't allo...
We're about to set it off right now
You know I ain't
Bill Gates, honey
But I'mma act like
I ain't never had money
And throw it away
And throw it away
...
This is the pick up line, I got to big up mine
I'm handlin' you frauds
These wounded ass niggas, I rap circles around 'em
I'm bandages and gauze
Crook...