[Intro: Eminem]
Welcome to Detroit
This is the BET, Shady 2.0, Cypher 2011
Myself, Slaughterhouse and Yelawolf
White Dawg 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 up 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
Holler
Shady Records
[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'd've 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 spitting
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 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 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 fiending 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 the 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 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, 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 and an album that's 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 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 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 windshield
Is it dust we bout to kick up
Can Yelawolf fit a fifth of rum in a big cup
Between his stick shift in his frigging pickup
And drink like a hick redneck hillbilly will til he gets hicc-ups
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
Cause 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 an aqua blue Mazda
Swallowing a popsicle, playing tonsil pool
So kill the rumors it ain’t happening
I’mma rap 'til I'm fossil fuel
Welcome to Detroit
This is the BET, Shady 2.0, Cypher 2011
Myself, Slaughterhouse and Yelawolf
White Dawg 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 up 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
Holler
Shady Records
[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'd've 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 spitting
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 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 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 fiending 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 the 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 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, 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 and an album that's 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 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 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 windshield
Is it dust we bout to kick up
Can Yelawolf fit a fifth of rum in a big cup
Between his stick shift in his frigging pickup
And drink like a hick redneck hillbilly will til he gets hicc-ups
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
Cause 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 an aqua blue Mazda
Swallowing a popsicle, playing tonsil pool
So kill the rumors it ain’t happening
I’mma rap 'til I'm fossil fuel
