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and comes before “Slaughtahouse”

*children yelling chairs squeaking*

*teacher’s voice interrupts*

Excuse me! Excuse me! Quiet down quiet down quiet down

Now listen

This is hardcore rap 101

So check your programs and make sure you’re in the right class

*papers shuffle kid mutters “yo I’m here” various talking*

Alright everybody alright? OK

Now when you rhyme, you have to say, that you smoke blunts

Also, you have to mention that you drink forties

You have to, mention, that you carry a nine millimeter

A tec nine, a mac ten, an M sixteen, or a uzi

Do everybody understand? (yeah)

Any questions? Yes

Excuse me but I don’t have a gun

It’s not _important_, if you have a gun or not

Just act like you have a gun, alright?

Now here’s a tape, of the latest group

on the cutting edge of hardcore rap

It’s the most innovative stuff, for nineteen ninety-three

Lyrics Resource: Song Lyrics

He sits fists clenched

When he looks up he sees tigers

When he looks inwards he sees disgust

Disgust for a jungle that is alive

A hand-me down false hope that is hard to swallow

When the truth has been realized (truth has been realized)

They’ll destroy you (x2)

So what now adapt and fit in to this system

No, no, learn the language of this tribe

Walk among them and in time

Lyrics Resource: Song Lyrics

The spirits around will haunt you, do not ring the bell

There is nobody home

Apartment 223,(scratch: i’m very hungry) (3x)

Apartment 223 with body parts under my bed

Cut your abdomen out stab your fuckin leather coat

I chant while candles burn with robes on

You will learn

Christian no hebrew on the the balcony i see you

The devils coffin with corpse of course

In a mental state earthquake

Schitzophrenic eatin’ campbells soup

Takin a piss urinalysis test

I hope you wear a fuckin bullet proof vest

Just purchased the charter arms .38

Then you entered the confetti hell gate

On the pee(?) floor bloody towels on sculptures

Machine gun suitcases, for all you niggaz with 2 faces

Mass murder, should have been in san quentin

I’m doin’life to ten, when i come home you goddamn

Right i’m goin back again

Fuck the drinks on the table

While you sleep i take pictures of bullets in your navel

Open your face and pour milk in your forehead

Count the bodies, that’s four dead

Look behind your fuckin’ back

With the drill bit in your ass crack, extreme pressure

Teach you a lesson

Fuck your confession of evil i march with black sheep on the sunset streets

With hoods like dracula

I walk in back of ya

Draggin you stomach parts to mcdonalds

Drink absolut bottles and bottles, while you tryin’

To fuck with the most exotic models

[chorus]

As you see the sign, beware of animals

A fuckin wild habitat

My living room is the wilderness with spots on

My carpet

Practicing my gun targets

Virtual reality is a rough end to yor career

Set you on fire in a leather chair

Using charcoal to broil

Rap you jealous eyeballs in aluminum foil

Wearin’ masses(masks) on the telephone talkin to

Your black asses, with stocking caps i reach

I’m takin’your ass in a rented van to venice beach

In a cardboard box

Beatin’ down your knees with a bag of master locks

Police can’t hear you with a dead body tied near you

It’s hot, i ‘m drinkin’ soda with a tech-9 sprayin’

Your fan belt motor

Stop the bullshit, blast you hands of the hood

I pull quick

Video tape you in a puddle of blood with razors in

Your dick

With an extra clip i move your torso

Spit on you hips

With mac-11 vice grips, surgery is major

With my sneakers stompin’ on your pager

With my cup of maxwell coffee, i like niggas whose

Bossy

Fuck the critics i press your back

Steam burn through your straight leg jeans

Soakin your bones out in the washing machine, with

Tide soap in the laundromat you witness the killing

Your man got scared called riverdale with a baseball

Hat, took a cab to hawthorne

I know where he’s goin’

You can’t hide in an empty apartment with a matress

And no protection, with a new york psycho

Bombshells in the hollywood section

I’m pressin bells and bells and bells till you fuckin

Let me in

[chorus]

Follow you on tour like a haunted nightmare

Kickin’ in your intestines like rick flair

Standin’ by the mobil gas station with a flamethrower

And a fuckin lawnmower, throwin big lighters at your fuel tank

I smash your face in the elestric window, piss on

Your fenders

With my ubbrella up like the avengers

Plead guily in court bring glocks through security

X-reays going for the worlds record

Shut the fuck up about music, i’m playin’ checkers

With blood polo shirts

Lookin’ at the fireworks

On the dirty ass terrace

Bones in ‘fridgerators spring water and lettuce

Fuck it if your jealous

Gather crackers with flowers around ‘em

Keep you eyes around ‘em

Buck dishes, dial your ambulance i’m on a mission

Open up your shin guards in tinfoil

Warmin’ my bread and saurkraut while your legs boil

Ketchup and mustard, fuck voodoo

Paint on my face lookin off my roof like shaka zulu

Surroundin you area for the biggest mass hysteria

Muhammed don’t (he mad?)

While you motherfuckers eat pork i tast real humans

On my fork

[chorus x4]

[frankenstien's assistant type voice]

You do not see anything on the table? (chairs

Squeak against floor) well wait until i get the box….

Lyrics Resource: Lyric

-Artist: Johnny Rivers from “Here We A Go Go Again”-Imperial LP-9274

-charted in 1964 by Tommy Tucker (#11) and Jerry Lee Lewis (#91)

-charted in 1965 by Stevie Wonder (#59)

-charted in 1966 by The Ramsey Lewis Trio (#70)

-charted in 1968 by Jose Feliciano (#25)

-Words and Music by Robert Higginbotham

Put on your red dress, baby

Ya know we’re goin’ out tonight

Put on your red dress, baby

Lord, we’re goin’ out tonight

And-a bring along some boxin’ gloves

In case some fool might wanna fight

Put on your high-heel sneakers, lordy

Wear your wig-hat on your head

Put on your high-heel sneakers, child

Wear your wig-hat on your head

Ya know you’re looking mighty fine, baby

I’m pretty sure you’re gonna knock ‘em dead

Put on your red dress, baby

Lord, we’re goin’ out tonight

Put on your red dress, baby

Well, we’re goin’ out tonight

And bring along some boxin’ gloves

‘case some fool might wanna fight

Put on your high-heel sneakers, child

Wear your wig-hat on your head now

Put on your high-heel sneakers, baby

Wear your wig-hat on your head

Ya know you’re looking mighty good, really

I’m pretty sure you’re gonna knock ‘em dead

Transcribed by Robin Hood

These lyrics were transcribed from the specific recording mentioned above

and do not necessarily correspond with lyrics from other recordings, sheet

music, songbooks or lyrics printed on album jackets.

Lyrics Resource: Music Lyrics