[Eminem:] Welcome to Detroit This is the BET Shady 2.0 Cypher 2011 Myself, Slaughterhouse and Yelawolf
White dog, get em!
[Yelawolf:] Put these muthafuckas in a box and I send ‘em away Put 'em in a gray 'Lac and pop the trunk Hey throw 'em in the back, jack, I dig ‘em a grave Put a brick inside that Xerox, when I print ‘em a page Moving keys I can't relate, cause I live in a cage I throw up the A, I take ‘em to school, I give em a grade, an easy E for effort That's WWA, white with an attitude Alphabet soup is on my plate All I got is Z’s they sleeping on me, I can’t get ‘em awake I spoon feed them the sound in a room full of deceivers and clowns Who believe they making it rain cause all they see is the clouds And I watch from the couch of the VIP Like a potato with a bunch of meatheads like fuck it I just feed em a cow Plenty of white boys to pick from this year But before you can pick a pepper, you better pick up your heater Cause even Peter Piper could pick up a mic But what it's like to pick a fight with me It’s like putting Nikes on a cheetah, betta speed up Or at least in my case Addidas I'm out this bitch drinking Sprite by the 2 liter Holler, Shady records
[Joe Budden:] Say I’m from the new school, I’ma say check ya tone and watch ya mouth If they teaching how to dougie, I’m condoning dropping out Forced to wile, y'all birthed and gave me up I just perfected being hip hops foster child, now check it I don’t blame y’all for being trash fans and copping it The radio’s the crime scene the masses are the hostages In my youth I'd throw shots, the fan would dodging it I’m grown, I ain't watching the throne, I’m sabotaging it You see that four headed monster and the storm looms Snipe ‘em from a distance, the scope got a long zoom You Super Mario thugs is in the wrong room Got a figure here you won’t get bigger if you on shrooms Was left to me I'd revive what the game be ’bout I’da took the wine outta Amy house Enough raps from you scrub cats about cocking a snub back Wayne couldn’t teach me how to love that But I got this shit from uptown, she my summer bunny Both parents broke but she comes from money Think my bread is her paper to burn So I lock her out and now she doubt David is Stern She so bad I make her hit the telly from a taxi Then dead her in that Holiday Inn Learnt that from Max B That's why the haters of every kind wanna send me Llamas I made it right before they eyes like I was Benihanas Is it me? Or is what I'm hearing just pitiful? Airwaves the same now the stereo’s typical My skin thick so the critics ignore So unafraid to die you think I did it before The boys Rodman with the trash talk Magical walk with the black ball way I bounce off the asphalt with cat paws Glass jaw, hoody and mask would be the black folk with no passport Body be found in the mansion in one of my trap doors If pumps had awards ya status whore category Probably be that of awards 'tween Michael Rappaport and Kenny Lattimore I know hip hops alive and well If it died, you other crews wouldn’t survive the smell
(Ladies & Gentlemen... you're scared now) (Make that face at 'em dawg) (Crooked I.. get 'em)
[Crooked I:] I spot a victim, the plot’ll thicken when the clock is tickin' I caught em slippin', I gotta give em a shot, I hit em with proper spittin' Hottest writtens and compositions, so competition's a contradiction Somebody mentioned they got it crooked, highly fiction, We probably different, got Gotti henchmen, Opposition our body quick as Bugatti engines I’m on a mission to get richer, The sickest lyric kicker diggin' a ditch for different spitters Sweet lyricists get disfigured, sip liquor Spit like a sick mixture Of Notorious Pun and L get the big picture The poster I’ll roast ya, My mind so deadly it’s just like the beanie is close to a holster It’s over control my whole coastal region like I’m supposed to Flow is going postal evening, open season Heart close to freezing, ruthless is easy nigga Approach I’m squeezing, believe me Dopest West Coaster breathing So most y'all hope I’m vegan, no pun, beefing Rappers need to keep it trill Give me a beat to kill too many people still eating sleeping pills People sleeping on my ether skills And y'all ain't even real We about to die in this cypher Before you die you should do the Jada and leave a Will Foreal
[Joeel Ortiz:] Yaooowa I ain't a rap dude, I’m a dude who rap Before this I was moving crack Killers y’all become when y’all rhyme, I salute and dap And if I blink then remove ya snaps, you ain't cool you wack With ya foolish yac’s? skinny jeans don't mean ya ass shoot It means ya booty claps Don’t play like Tyler Perry, this the Slaughterhouse of Pain Flow brown, tight and heavy When it comes to sixteen’s I’m a fiend feinding a studio Near a needle with a mean lean, probably writing bars to Nas "Thief theme" Getting my Yaowa on, may all the Olajuwon’s be the dream team This is an all day slaughter They feindin for us to break like Beyonce’s water The four quarters doing all the eating And you gotta know why I made the cut, I’m Puerto Rican Ortiz keep the fire ready And tryna put me out’s like tryna steal a transvestite from Eddie
[Royce Da 5'9':] I’m do or die dope And you can make the sticker sittin' on the door Of that phantom your suicide note Hi Rihanna.. Is Nicki living with you? Let me know So I can buy binoculars and telescopes Hi Rihanna.. I don’t need to know you better You tell me you love my music again, we go together Bye Rihanna... Now back to y’all fools We rock out like the outside of a guitar school Thousand dollar frames, I prefer to see the world through Don’t ask me nothing bout Budden, I beat my girl too You ask me why do I keep her? I say it’s cheaper to That’s why I ride around in a Rolls like Wiz Khalifa do Rappers, I’m your daddy, I tell you straight as this You don’t kill but your father Will like Jaden Smith I tell ya like I tell my Spanish chick You fly but I ain’t going down on no landing strip So get your wax on like Daniel-son Or I’ma have to run like De La Hoya in drag when cameras come Point out the greatest rapper alive I headshot ‘em Smack his girl on the butt and buy her some red bottom Bring every deceased rapper back to see his wife While I’m cyber sexing with Jessica Alba, via Skype I’m on my d-boy, d-bo thing Spiritual steelo swing like Cee-Lo Green Get out the camera with yo B Roll bling You know your flow is whack We cornered the market like a Wal-Mart in a cul-de-sac Yeah, this what 2 million singles sold and a album that’s gold Look like, without having to sell your soul Nickle
[Eminem:] Wait, can I rap?
(You da Boss, you better get 'em)
Ayo... lyrical miracle spiritual individual criminal subliminal In your swimmin' pool
(Boo.. come on man, get back on.. kick that shit)
You ’bout to see peace destroyed It’ll never be restored When I unleash these beastly hoards on your CD stores Wanna stop it, you gon' need a priest and at least three swords A license to ill from the Beastie Boys, 3 Ouija boards And a squeegee and please be warned don’t ask for the squeegees for Or the holy water, acid rap that’ll eat these floors Eat a hole in a rhyme book, you see these horns? And as for me, you ask when I’m gone "will he be mourned?" Is puke luke warm? Should Casey Anthony do porn? Can that chick fit a newborn dead baby inside a freakin' shoebox With a shoehorn, smothered in chloroform so she can go get her groove on? Can she duct tape and Velcro a fetus? Joell yo, Tell Joe I need his empty box from his old shell toe adidas So I can put these babies in the fetal position, They’re getting elbows to the penis Yeah, big deal. I took some little kids big wheel And spit in his fricken big kids meal Quit tryna bite me and pinch, you wench, sit still You just put your six inch heel through my Benz windshield? Is it dust we bout to kick up? Can Yelawolf fit a fifth of rum in a big cup? Between a stick shift in his fricken pick up And drink like a hick, redneck, hillbilly will till he gets hiccups? Flippin' the script up like Mike Vick Get bit in his junk by a pit, yup I’m a sick pup I’d be a horrible magician Cause I’d fuck that trick up Fix ya lips up to say something fly, or zip up A-B? Let’s C. You said you were gonna do X-Y-Z Till you fuck around and get dropped like an E When you add an I-N-G Don’t put a K in front of that though, when I MC Cause I’m not the king of this microphone booth It’s more like a phonebooth Superman in this bitch, kryptonite won’t do It gives me more power, I bump the fat boys and Eat rat poison, take meteor showers Fresh outta the mental hospital and me not flossing a middle finger While I hop in a mosh pit, will be like Nas doing gospel or R&B, you crazy? Me pushing up daisies? That thought is impossible As if flashing across the news, Posdnuos was caught with a prostitute With a huge Johnson, boobs, and a monstrous tube of lube And a bra, some boots, some panties, in an aqua blue Mazda Swallowing a popsicle, playing tonsil pool So kill the rumors it ain’t happenin' I’ma rap till I’m fossil fuelTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
