Whose House lyrics

[Intro]
(DJ RPM)
(Dirty Money n*ggas)

[Chorus: Slim The Mobster]
Uh, whose house is this?
Money out the ying-yang, can't count that sh*t
Stackin' dead prez, mouth to mouth that sh*t
When they said a n*gga wouldn't amount to sh*t
Now whose house is this?
Laughin' so hard, my tongue is out and sh*t
Run your di*k-sucker, keep me out that b*tch
'Fore I spazz and squirt, and I'm out that b*tch (RPM)

[Verse 1: Slim The Mobster]
Broadcastin' live from South Central Los Angeles
Where the babies born scandalous
The street, I keep my hand in it
The gun, I keep my hand on it
n*ggas is gon' need bandages if I brandish it
Ambulances, the chance that you make it, slim, n*gga
I'm good in the hood 'cause I motivated them n*ggas
I graduated from dumb hoes and malt liquor
To expensive wine and dime b*tches
Redlinin' the DB9 like it's my time, pimpin'
Audemars with the sickest shine, quality time spendin'
And you n*ggas is borderline b*tches, that's my opinion
And my n*ggas is ride or die, Aftermath my religion
Talk loud, but I don't listen, act out and come up missin'
That click-clack-pow did it, like Colin Powell did it
And I'm so West Coast, OK Corral with it
My new foreign car, can't pronounce that sh*t
You f*ck around, I'll Rick James a n*gga couch and sh*t
[Chorus: Slim The Mobster]
Uh, whose house is this?
Money out the ying-yang, can't count that sh*t
Stackin' dead prez, mouth to mouth that sh*t
When they said a n*gga wouldn't amount to sh*t
Now whose house is this?
Laughin' so hard, my tongue is out and sh*t
Run your di*k-sucker, keep me out that b*tch
'Fore I spazz and squirt, and I'm out that b*tch (Give me my damn money, Dirty Money n*ggas)

[Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar]
Broadcasting live from Compton, California, where foreigners never come
Mothers are worrisome and we dislike the governor
Hope these angels can cover us
If the LAPD ain't do it, it was a cover-up
Coroners 'bout to cover up everybody
I'm serious
Every shotty is sawed off and every n*gga is militant
At your gut like Caesareans, what?
EBT cards, no credit, can't lease cars
All my life, been on GR, now my life on the billboards soon
Give me room, I react like a wildebeest and throw salt inside of your wound
You just diabetes to me, ain't sh*t sweet but these hotels, homie
That Crip sh*t got my uncles life in jail, homie
So if I push the same line, they'll never forgive me
Or worse than that, them n*ggas right around the corner might kill me
I'm fightin' back when it's hard, what?
No barber, my guards up
The author of fallen fathers that did it without much
This my house, n*gga
[Chorus: Slim The Mobster]
Uh, whose house is this?
Money out the ying-yang, can't count that sh*t
Stackin' dead prez, mouth to mouth that sh*t
When they said a n*gga wouldn't amount to sh*t
Now whose house is this?
Laughin' so hard, my tongue is out and sh*t
Run your di*k-sucker, keep me out that b*tch
'Fore I spazz and squirt, and I'm out that b*tch