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作曲 : Andre Young/Dawaun Parker/Marshall Mathers/Trevor Lawrence/Curtis Jackson/Mark Batson |
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Ooww Ladies and gentlemen |
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The moment you’ve all been waiting for |
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In this corner : weighing 175 pounds |
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with a record of 17 rapes, 400 assaults, and 4 murders |
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the undisputed, most diabolic villain in the world : |
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Slim Shady! |
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So crack a bottle, let your body waddle |
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Don’t act like a snobby model you just hit the lotto |
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O-oh o-oh, bitch3s hopping in my Tahoe |
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Got one riding shotgun and no not one of them got gloves |
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Now where’s the rubbers? Whose got the rubbers? |
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I noticed there’s so many of them |
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and there’s really not that many of us. |
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Ladies love us and my posse’s kicking up dust. |
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It’s on till the break of dawn |
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and we’re starting this party from dusk |
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Ok … let’s go |
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Back when Andre, the giant, mister elephant tusk |
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Fix your must, you’ll just be another one bit the dust |
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Just one up my mothers son who got thrown under the bus |
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Kiss my butt. Lick from under cheese from under my nuts |
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It disgusts me to see the game the way that it looks |
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Its a must I redeem my name n haters get mushed. |
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Bitch3s lust. Man they love me when I lay in the cut. |
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Fist the cut. The lady give her eighty some paper cut. |
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Now picture us. Its ridiculous you curse at the thought |
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Cuz when I spit the verse the sh-t |
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gets worse then worcestershire sauce |
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If I could fit the words as picture perfect, works every time |
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Every verse, every line, as simple as nursery rhymes |
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Its elementary. The elephants have entered the room. |
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I venture to say with the center of attention its true |
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Not to mention back with a vengeance so here’s the signal |
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Of the bat symbol. The platinum trio’s back on you hoes. |
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Eminem |
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So crack a bottle, let your body waddle |
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Don’t act like a snobby model you just hit the lotto |
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O-oh o-oh, bitch3s hopping in my Tahoe |
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Got one riding shotgun and no not one of them got gloves |
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Now where’s the rubbers? Whose got the rubbers? |
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I noticed there’s so many of them |
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and there’s really not that many of us. |
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Ladies love us and my posse’s kicking up dust. |
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It’s on till the break of dawn |
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and we’re starting this party from dusk |
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Ok … let’s go |
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Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. Dre |
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Chorus |
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|
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Dr Dre |
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They see that low rider go by there, like Oh my! |
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You ain’t got to tell me why you’re sick cuz I know why. |
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I dip through in that six trey like sick em Dre. |
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I’m an itch that they cant scratch, they’re sick of me. |
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But hey, what else can I say? I love LA. |
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Cuz over and above all, its just another day |
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And this one begins where the last one ends. |
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Pick up where we left off and get smashed again. |
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I’ll be dammed, just f*cked around and crashed my Benz. |
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Driving around with a smashed front end |
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Lets cash that one in. |
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Grab another one from out the stable |
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The Monte Carlo, El Camino or the El Dorado |
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The hell if I know. |
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Do I want leather seats or vinyl? |
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Decisions, decision |
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Garage looks like precision collision. |
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Or maico beats quake like Waco |
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Just keep the bass low speakers away from your face though |
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Chorus |
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And I take great pleasure in introducing: 50 Cent |
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50 Cent |
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It’s bottle after bottle |
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The money ain’t a thang when you party with me |
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Its what we into its simple |
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We ball out of control like you wouldn’t believe |
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I’m the napalm the bomb the don i’m King Kong |
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Get rolled on wrapped up and reigned on |
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I’m so calm through Vietnam ring the alarm |
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Bring the shaun dawn burn marajauan do what you want |
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Nigga on and on till the break of what |
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Get the paper man i’m caking you know i don’t give a f*ck |
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I spend it like it don’t mean nothing |
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Blow it like its supposed to be blown |
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Motherf*cker i’m grown |
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I stunt i style i flash the sh-t |
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I gets what the f*ck i want so what I trick |
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Fat ass burgundy bags classy sh-t Jimmy Cho shoes |
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I say move a bitch move |