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    [Intro: Eminem]
    Welcome to Detroit
    This is the BET, Shady 2.0, Cypher, 2011
    Myself, Slaughterhouse, and Yelawolf

    White dog, get 'em!

    [Verse 1: Yelawolf]
    Put these muthafuckas in a box and I send 'em away
    Put em in a gray 'llac and pop the trunk
    And throw em in the back, jack, ha, dig 'em a grave
    Put a brick inside that Xerox when I print 'em a page
    Moving keys I can relate, cause I live in the cage
    I throw up the A, I take 'em to school, I give them a grade
    An easy E for effort, that's the 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 'em a sound, in a room full of deceivers and clowns
    Who believe in 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'll just feed 'em a cow
    Plenty of white boys to pick from this year
    But before you 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 is like putting Nikes
    on a cheetah
    Better speed up, or at least in my case Adidas
    I'm out this bitch, drinking Sprite by the two-liter

    [Verse 2: Joe Budden]
    Say I'm from the new school, I'mma say check your tone
    and watch your mouth
    If they teaching how to Dougie, I'm condoning dropping out
    Forced to wild, y'all birthed me then gave me up
    I just perfected being hip hop's foster child
    Now check it: don't blame y'all for being trash, fans are copping it
    The radio's the crime scene, the masses are the hostages
    In my youth I'd throw shots, the fad was dodging it
    I'm grown: I ain't watching the throne, I'm sabotaging it
    You see that 4-headed monster in the storm looms
    Snipe 'em from a distance: the scope got a long zoom
    You Super Mario thugs is in the wrong room
    Gotta figure here, you won't get bigger if you on shrooms
    If it was left to me, I'd revive what the game be 'bout
    I woulda took the Wine outta Amy House
    Enough raps from you scrub cats bout cockin' a snub back
    Wayne couldn't teach me how to love that
    But I have this chick from uptown, she my summer bunny
    Both parents broke, but she come from money
    Think my bread is her paper to burn
    So I lock her out, and now she doubt David is Stern
    She's so bad, I make her hit the telly from a taxi
    Then dead her in the Holiday Inn, learned that from Max B
    That's why haters envy, kinda wanna send me llamas
    I made it right before their 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's thick, so the critics ignored
    So unafraid to die, you'd think I did it before
    The boy's Rodman with the trash talk, Magic or Walt
    With the black ball, way I bounce off the asphalt with cat paws
    Glass jaw, Hood of your mask will be the Blackfoot with
    no passport
    Body be found in a mansion in one of my trapdoors
    If punks had award you status whores categore
    Probably be that of awards between Michael Rappaport
    and Kenny Latimore
    I know hip hop's alive and well
    If it died, you other crews wouldn't survive the smell

    [Verse 3: Crooked I]
    I spot a victim, the plot'll thicken when the clock is ticking
    I caught him slipping, I gotta give him a shot
    I hit him with proper spittin', hottest writtens and compositions
    So competition's a contradiction, somebody mention they
    got a Crooked
    Highly fiction we probably different, got Gotti henchmen
    Opposition, I'll body quick as Bugatti engines
    I'm on a mission to get richer, the sickest lyric kicker
    Digging a ditch for different spitters, weak lyricists get
    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 even
    Open season, heart close to freezing
    Ruthless as Eazy nigga approach, I'm squeezing, believe me
    Dopest Westcoaster breathing
    So most ya hope I'm vegan, nope I'm 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, you 'bout to die in this cypher
    Before you die, you should do the Jada and leave a Will

    [Verse 4: Joell Ortiz]
    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 they'll remove your snaps
    You ain't cool, you wack with your foolish act
    Skinny jeans don't mean your ass shoot, it means
    your booty claps
    Don't play like Tyler Perry
    This the Slaughterhouse of pain, flow brown, tight and heavy
    When it come to 16's, I'm a fiend
    Seen in the studio near a needle with a mean lean
    Probably writing bars to Nas' Thief's Theme getting
    my Yaowa on
    Man, all these Olajuwons, we the dream team
    This is an all day slaughter
    They fiendin' for us to break like Beyonce's water
    The four quarters doing all the eating
    And y'all gotta know why I made the cut, I'm Puerto Rican
    Ortiz keep they fire ready
    And tryna put me out's like tryna steal a transvestite from Eddie

    [Verse 5: Royce Da 5'9"]
    I'm do or die dope and you can make the sticker sitting
    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 Jayden Smith
    I tell you 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 San
    Or I'mma have to run like De la Hoya in drag when cameras
    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, Deebo thing
    Spiritual steelo swing like Cee-Lo Green
    Get out the camera with yo B Roll bling, you know your
    flow is wack
    We cornered the market like a Wal-Mart in a cul-de-sac
    Yeah, this is what two million singles sold, the album is gold
    Look like without having to sell your soul

    [Verse 6: Eminem]
    Ayo, lyrical miracle spiritual individual criminal
    Subliminal in your swimming pool
    You're about to see peace destroyed, it'll never be restored
    When I unleash these beastly hordes on your CD stores
    Wanna stop it? You gon' need a priest, at least three swords
    A license to ill from the Beastie Boys, three Ouija boards
    A squeegee and please be warned, don't ask what the
    squeegee's for
    Or the holy water, acid raps 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 new born dead baby inside a fricking
    With a shoehorn and smother it 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 toed 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 frickin
    big kids meal
    Quit tryna bite me and pinch you wench sit still
    Did you just put your six inch heel through my Benz
    Is it dust we bout to kick up?
    Can Yelawolf fit a fifth of rum in a big cup
    Between in stick shift in his frigging pickup
    And drink like a hick redneck hillbilly will 'til he gets hiccups
    Flipping the script up like Mike Vick
    Getting bit in his junk by a Pit, yup I'm a sick pup
    I'd be a horrible magician, cause I'll fuck a trick up
    Fix your lips up to say something fly, or zip up
    A B, let's C, you said you were gonna do X-Y-Z
    'til 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
    I'm not the king of the microphone booth,
    it's more like a phone booth
    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'll
    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 and a aqua blue Mazda
    Swallowin' a popsicle, playing tonsil pool
    So kill the rumors it ain?t happening, I?mma rap 'til I'm fossil fuel

    Letra enviada por davidurazzo
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