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 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
