Eminem feat. Slaughterhouse & Yelawolf - BET Shady 2.0 Cypher | Текст песни

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• Eminem feat. Slaughterhouse & Yelawolf
• BET Shady 2.0 Cypher

[Intro: Eminem]
Welcome to Detroit
This is the BET, Shady 2.0 Cypher 2011
Myself, Slaughterhouse and Yelawolf
White Dawg (thank you cracker) get 'em!

[Verse 1: Yelawolf]
Put these mothafuckas 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 Eazy-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 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 four-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 got 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 the 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 Lattimore
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

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