Eminem, Royce Da 5'9 & Mr. Porter - Tim Westwood Freestyle | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Eminem, Royce Da 5'9 & Mr. Porter
• Tim Westwood Freestyle

[Verse 1: Mr. Porter]
Welcome to the ill world of Mr. P-O
Ay, keep the talk, B; I'm tryna see dough
If it ain't about bread, what we gon' speak fo?
If it ain't no lead, then it ain't no beef, bro
You better get a leash cause your freak ho
Specialize in wood like she Home Depot
I'm like Chico DeBarge, we stars
Roscoe P. Coltrane in these bars, man
Amtrak, I'll break her damn back, man
It's Ralph Lauren, this ain't no damn Chaps
It's all polo; I'm so pro, though
You bird-crazy: El Pollo Loco
Talking bout cheese and this ain't no photo
Asking bout rings like the ho know Frodo
You better get out of my house and shit
I just threw up in my mouth a little bit, I'm sick

[Verse 2: Royce da 5'9"]
Niggas be lying, talking bout that, bust a heater
Once I see him, maybe more like Justin Bieber
Leaving my rivals underground like Skyzoo's, how I do
I have her laying in the street and bleeding, butt naked
With a bullet in his muthafuckin' head like Erykah Badu
I find irony in being in a place where I'm
Wearing Gucci, mane, getting white boy wasted
I tell a nigga, "break bread or take lead"
I'm tryna get rid of this weight like K-Fed
Me and Denaun got a gangsta bond
We like that once-in-a-lifetime thang to you that ain't the prom
The next Emcee that rhyme "official" with "ref with a whistle"
That ain't Young Money, I'mma definitely diss you
If you rhyming "packing a Mac" with "back of the Ac"
Or perhaps you can't match my spectacular vernacular
You still rhyming "bottles" with "models", "college" for "knowledge"
Using the word "swagger"? You're probably garbage
You thugs funny, comparing 5'9" to anybody?
You comparing Superman to Bugs Bunny

[Verse 3: Eminem]
I'm like a white Michael Vick, psycho enough to stick
Michael J. Fox in a microwave with a Rott
I might make a little Alizé with a side of NyQuil
And ride a motorcycle bike right through the side of my high school
Satan's disciple with a sniper rifle and a knife and a white diaper
Liable to shit on you while I snipe you
So dope he gets off opiates, what an appropriate
Way to start off his day; he may just smart off to Dre
He may be hard to contain cause his rage is so hard to gauge
See, Hannibal ate his face and met Jason gnawed off his leg
Amazing hard-on for razors and blades and anything sharp
Even poisonous darts; it all plays a major part of his game
Holy water won't ward him off, crucifixes won't do the trick
He's so sick, it's ridiculous; sawed the crazy part off his brain
He's still insane, why's there bloodstains on his carpet, mane
There's some crazy shit going on in Shady's apartment again

[Verse 4: Mr. Porter]
A killer's back to the blocks, slinging yay like the old days
Superman on the beat, I carry my whole state
You wooden legs to a house: you can't hold weight
Oh shit, it's O'Shea Jackson! Okay
A little bit of this twisted out with Obama in it
Mr. Porter back with anthrax like Osama sent him
Bitch, I'm all that; I drive the girls crazy
They gotta look at Rorschachs to get they thoughts back
I ain't a small fry, small ticker, small tack
I make 'em all cry with big dick and raw sack
The potblood of science to return a raw rap
I'm the best, mane: Eli Porter stance

[Verse 5: Royce da 5'9"]
Y'all bitches should call Nickle the Don Bishop
A poet, a mixer of Don Goines and John Grisham
Flow'll have ya rewinding through it five times
That landmine rhyme written with porcupine line
Step up in here with the Slaughterhouse
C.O.B. Gang will approach you
And bend ya gun barrel to a Horseshoe
Only fuck wit monsters, we the truth, monsters will pop

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