House Rules (Intro) Lyrics
| Song | House Rules (Intro) |
| Artist | Slaughterhouse |
| Album | House Rules |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 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 | |
| Yeah, respect over a dollar | |
| 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 | |
| Cause *******s wanna approach or get close. They could hope to smoke ya | |
| When a vulture opposes ya folks its an emotional roller coaster | |
| Ya friends became foes, everything backwards, pimps became hoes | |
| You know how the game goes | |
| ******* it, one less ******* to split the pie up | |
| 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? | |
| I hope you know ya *******s sound mad | |
| 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 | |
| If there's a problem I hope its soon to be solved | |
| ******* 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 | |
| Drop some money on your head, I'm just playing with the racks | |
| 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 | |
| In Tropez with a bird that look like Selena Gomez | |
| A younger Felipe Lopez | |
| Free agents want to get down, thats on the back page | |
| Whole team got one in the chamber, wheres the cap space? | |
| Vixen in the bed with another on the dial | |
| A know the Wi-Fi was great, shorty buffered for a while | |
| It's Joe, speeding off with the tail pipe smoking | |
| And ******* rules they was made to be broken | |
| The house is back open |
| 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 | |
| Yeah, respect over a dollar | |
| 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 | |
| Cause s wanna approach or get close. They could hope to smoke ya | |
| When a vulture opposes ya folks its an emotional roller coaster | |
| Ya friends became foes, everything backwards, pimps became hoes | |
| You know how the game goes | |
| it, one less to split the pie up | |
| 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 ObamaCare 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? | |
| I hope you know ya s sound mad | |
| 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 unbogartable | |
| 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 winwin 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 | |
| If there' s a problem I hope its soon to be solved | |
| 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 | |
| Drop some money on your head, I' m just playing with the racks | |
| 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 | |
| In Tropez with a bird that look like Selena Gomez | |
| A younger Felipe Lopez | |
| Free agents want to get down, thats on the back page | |
| Whole team got one in the chamber, wheres the cap space? | |
| Vixen in the bed with another on the dial | |
| A know the WiFi was great, shorty buffered for a while | |
| It' s Joe, speeding off with the tail pipe smoking | |
| And rules they was made to be broken | |
| The house is back open |
| 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 | |
| Yeah, respect over a dollar | |
| 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 | |
| Cause s wanna approach or get close. They could hope to smoke ya | |
| When a vulture opposes ya folks its an emotional roller coaster | |
| Ya friends became foes, everything backwards, pimps became hoes | |
| You know how the game goes | |
| it, one less to split the pie up | |
| 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 ObamaCare 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? | |
| I hope you know ya s sound mad | |
| 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 unbogartable | |
| 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 winwin 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 | |
| If there' s a problem I hope its soon to be solved | |
| 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 | |
| Drop some money on your head, I' m just playing with the racks | |
| 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 | |
| In Tropez with a bird that look like Selena Gomez | |
| A younger Felipe Lopez | |
| Free agents want to get down, thats on the back page | |
| Whole team got one in the chamber, wheres the cap space? | |
| Vixen in the bed with another on the dial | |
| A know the WiFi was great, shorty buffered for a while | |
| It' s Joe, speeding off with the tail pipe smoking | |
| And rules they was made to be broken | |
| The house is back open |
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