[Hook 1: Eminem]
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 thank God, if you�re listenin�
Please give me the strength to crush all competition
You can�t blame me for dreaming, I�m a dreamer
And if I�m coming off brash please forgive me
But, that�s all I want
[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
I just wanna be the illest MC (That�s all I want)
The same time being as real as can be
Mayhem, sickness, murder, horror
These are the kind of words that describe my aura
G Rap, Ras Kass, Kurupt
Redman I am cut from that cloth
Write a rhyme about me, you a dead man
Cool J, I�m Bad video
Learn the whole routine and perform it for my father�s friends
While they smoked and drank
Symphony, D.O.C. inspired me to write what
Would eventually put me on airplanes like B.o.B
Canibus, Wu-Tang, you know our history but hats off
When we rap this Jack Frost we outline the track chalk
Thank God for the one-two cadence
Thank God for the lunchroom tables
I�m trying to be the sickest nigga, dead or alive
And if I happen to fall short, it�s been one hell of a ride
Chronic 1 and 2, looking up at the sky at the sun
Up until the day the sun is you
You listening to hip-hop, you in Jay�s house
Wayne�s house, Nas� house
Em�s house, Our House
[Hook 2: Skylar Grey]
So welcome, to our house
Where no one, comes back out
You won�t find, comfort
In here, in here, in here
[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
When I was a little boy I wanted to be a rapper
Wanted to be on the radio and snapping pictures after
And so I grabbed my pen and pad and scribbled chitter chatter
It started off whack
But in the words of a ten year old, my shit was getting phatter
I hit the studio at 16, stupid ill
Not knowing how the booth would feel, what�s ADAT�s and two inch reel
How you ad-lib? What�s a punch? I ain�t a boxer
But I sure enough learned the ropes, look D and Mike you made a monster
Now everyday�s a game of Contra, I got 99 men
An infinite amount of rounds inside this mighty fine pen
This is my dream, don�t fuck with it, I�m telling you
Cause anyone can get dusted as long as production is available
I�m disgusted as a fan, look how niggas sounding, damn
Weak head, ya�ll suck bad, fuck swag and your kicks from South Japan
I�m finna to be the best in this profession
I�ve been invested all my life, so wipe your feet before you step in
Our house
[Hook 2 & Hook 1]
[Interlude: Joe Budden]
I just wanna be the illest MC
The same time being as real as can be
[Verse 3: Crooked I]
Yo, in my house, the lights out
No utilities in the facilities
Feeling my life�s �bout, to wipe out
These feelings I�m feeling be killing me
I pull the mic out, can�t strike out
Cause if winning is really my enemy
I pull a nine out, blow my mind out
Is the end of me really serenity?
Man in my house, it�s rap or die
Get a piece of that apple pie
Life is a Pharcyde song, and that bitch just passes by
So I, got lyrically complex, that way I could clock checks
Get my moms out the projects, with these concepts, competition can�t digest
And then I stress cause the road is rough
I start feeling like shit�s sour
The electricity in my will power, could still power, the twin towers
For ten hours so send cowards
The message from Crooked I
Royce Da 5, Joe Budden, Em Yaowa
[Verse 4: Eminem]
In our, house we spit like Sig Sauers
The way I feel now I could spit for six hours
Straight, only way to be great, is to dig down, if you can hear this sound in
Side my head sounds like a fucking drive-by
That�s what the inside of my mind�s like
Looking back on, my career even, hindsights, tunnel vision, 5 mics
Never wanted that so bad well I got-ta go mad
Nomad with a notepad
Go Taz, spaz on these ho bags
That bother me, but I never wanna show that
Just don�t act like it ever does
Even though you know that there will never come
A day someone blows past you, never was
Someone who�s as dope as you ever was
And you hope that�s, true cause the competitor in you
Couldn�t let someone be better than you
And you know that, so you don�t ever hold back
What you gonna go back, to working a regular job?
Fuck that, I�m gonna go hard grab on my, gonads
Tell them fuck theyselves
They call me a wigger like Renee Zell
But I raised hell like a stay-at-home dad
Rap is the only thing that I was ever really, bad to the bone at
Guess I�m similar to, gangrene when I�m, angry then I�m
Hulk Smash, so much passion but no compassion
If eyes are the windows to the soul
Then it�s, broken glass and there�s no trespassing
Alright now here we go
Dre stamped me now I�m stamping Yelawolf be ready for the most competitive
Clique in the world it�s like Clash Of The Titans
I�m releasing the cracker it�s time to set it again
And when it�s said and it�s all done
None shall fuck with this squadron
So come on in, at your own risk
This is (Our House) Bitch!
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 thank God, if you�re listenin�
Please give me the strength to crush all competition
You can�t blame me for dreaming, I�m a dreamer
And if I�m coming off brash please forgive me
But, that�s all I want
[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
I just wanna be the illest MC (That�s all I want)
The same time being as real as can be
Mayhem, sickness, murder, horror
These are the kind of words that describe my aura
G Rap, Ras Kass, Kurupt
Redman I am cut from that cloth
Write a rhyme about me, you a dead man
Cool J, I�m Bad video
Learn the whole routine and perform it for my father�s friends
While they smoked and drank
Symphony, D.O.C. inspired me to write what
Would eventually put me on airplanes like B.o.B
Canibus, Wu-Tang, you know our history but hats off
When we rap this Jack Frost we outline the track chalk
Thank God for the one-two cadence
Thank God for the lunchroom tables
I�m trying to be the sickest nigga, dead or alive
And if I happen to fall short, it�s been one hell of a ride
Chronic 1 and 2, looking up at the sky at the sun
Up until the day the sun is you
You listening to hip-hop, you in Jay�s house
Wayne�s house, Nas� house
Em�s house, Our House
[Hook 2: Skylar Grey]
So welcome, to our house
Where no one, comes back out
You won�t find, comfort
In here, in here, in here
[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
When I was a little boy I wanted to be a rapper
Wanted to be on the radio and snapping pictures after
And so I grabbed my pen and pad and scribbled chitter chatter
It started off whack
But in the words of a ten year old, my shit was getting phatter
I hit the studio at 16, stupid ill
Not knowing how the booth would feel, what�s ADAT�s and two inch reel
How you ad-lib? What�s a punch? I ain�t a boxer
But I sure enough learned the ropes, look D and Mike you made a monster
Now everyday�s a game of Contra, I got 99 men
An infinite amount of rounds inside this mighty fine pen
This is my dream, don�t fuck with it, I�m telling you
Cause anyone can get dusted as long as production is available
I�m disgusted as a fan, look how niggas sounding, damn
Weak head, ya�ll suck bad, fuck swag and your kicks from South Japan
I�m finna to be the best in this profession
I�ve been invested all my life, so wipe your feet before you step in
Our house
[Hook 2 & Hook 1]
[Interlude: Joe Budden]
I just wanna be the illest MC
The same time being as real as can be
[Verse 3: Crooked I]
Yo, in my house, the lights out
No utilities in the facilities
Feeling my life�s �bout, to wipe out
These feelings I�m feeling be killing me
I pull the mic out, can�t strike out
Cause if winning is really my enemy
I pull a nine out, blow my mind out
Is the end of me really serenity?
Man in my house, it�s rap or die
Get a piece of that apple pie
Life is a Pharcyde song, and that bitch just passes by
So I, got lyrically complex, that way I could clock checks
Get my moms out the projects, with these concepts, competition can�t digest
And then I stress cause the road is rough
I start feeling like shit�s sour
The electricity in my will power, could still power, the twin towers
For ten hours so send cowards
The message from Crooked I
Royce Da 5, Joe Budden, Em Yaowa
[Verse 4: Eminem]
In our, house we spit like Sig Sauers
The way I feel now I could spit for six hours
Straight, only way to be great, is to dig down, if you can hear this sound in
Side my head sounds like a fucking drive-by
That�s what the inside of my mind�s like
Looking back on, my career even, hindsights, tunnel vision, 5 mics
Never wanted that so bad well I got-ta go mad
Nomad with a notepad
Go Taz, spaz on these ho bags
That bother me, but I never wanna show that
Just don�t act like it ever does
Even though you know that there will never come
A day someone blows past you, never was
Someone who�s as dope as you ever was
And you hope that�s, true cause the competitor in you
Couldn�t let someone be better than you
And you know that, so you don�t ever hold back
What you gonna go back, to working a regular job?
Fuck that, I�m gonna go hard grab on my, gonads
Tell them fuck theyselves
They call me a wigger like Renee Zell
But I raised hell like a stay-at-home dad
Rap is the only thing that I was ever really, bad to the bone at
Guess I�m similar to, gangrene when I�m, angry then I�m
Hulk Smash, so much passion but no compassion
If eyes are the windows to the soul
Then it�s, broken glass and there�s no trespassing
Alright now here we go
Dre stamped me now I�m stamping Yelawolf be ready for the most competitive
Clique in the world it�s like Clash Of The Titans
I�m releasing the cracker it�s time to set it again
And when it�s said and it�s all done
None shall fuck with this squadron
So come on in, at your own risk
This is (Our House) Bitch!