🎵 Clique (Freestyle) // by Joell Ortiz

11 ContributorsClique (Freestyle) Lyrics Slaughterhouse’s Joell Ortiz own take on Kanye West’s Clique [Verse 1] You ain't fucking with my clique So much they ain't gotta spit I got this shit, from my pocket I lift this pick and script the apocalypse I'm the freshest with this ink The stuck-up bitches sex me in a blink Give me neck until I sprink- Le I call that a little something to think Hood rich, sawed-off shotty With bodies under the mink, good chicks I've got an eagle eye for birdies if they up to par I put a hole in one I'm on my Tiger Woods' shit Rubber band grind, fuck your black card dawg' I rob your black ass, now that's black on black crime Southern comfort and lime North Bubble when it's opposite of summer time Scully load you think I'm moving dimes So Brooklyn am I, yeah I come from where that Boom Bap Is drums from a new track, or the exchange from two gats Mouth off, don't do that Hot heads, we'll cool that You keep wigging out We'll give your dew rag a new flat Then push your hair dew back I'm with the business No throwing lead, I'm throwing doe on your head I said I'm with the business And you know I can't go a whole verse without a YAOWA That's my mother fucking shit, you ain't fucking with my clique Clique, Clique, Clique, Clack Run your mother fucking shit, homie come up off that Grip, Grip, Grip, Grip Back the fuck down before I spit, Prick