We Outta Here Joe Budden (Ft. Slaughterhouse)

[Intro: Royce]
Your left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)
Your right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)
{*gunfire*}
Your left shoulderrrrr (HUT!)
Your right shoulderrrrr (HUT!)
{*whistle blows*}

[Female] Slaughter

[Royce Da 5'9"]
Poppa-Poppa Pistol stuck his dick in Momma Missile
And created Mr. Got-to-Get-You if he opposite just split
You niggas bitches cranberry like a vodka mixer
Whipping bitches niggas black, ass like a cotton picker
Bomb through debris - I'm holdin two pistols
In the form of a cross yeah I am armed to the T
I put on for my city, I take off for whoever
Think I'm soft for my job of rappin, go back to clappin
Back to illin, back to dealin, back to coc-a-ina
Up the nose, that's the feelin, sky the limit, that's the ceilin
And the women is the whores, puttin numbers up for sales
It's the score into hell, it's the feel, it's the feel

[Hook: Royce Da 5'9" - singing with AutoTune]
I can make noise when the gat blowwwww-ooooooh-oooh
The Slaughterhouse boys make the gat blowwwww-ohhhhh-ooooh
It's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouuuuuuuse
We outta here, we outta here, we outta here
It's a muh'fuckin Slaughterhouse
We outta here, we outta here, we outta